Beautiful Chaos
by Shadow0Fire
Summary: Every eon, the world of humanity is brought to an end; a never-ending cycle that repeats the destruction and rebirth of all life. The conflict between the spirit swords is only a catalyst for this final consummation, and the time for the End is near once more. Only the Sentinels of Time, agents of a higher power, can break the cycle, and save humanity once and for all. (No Yuri)
1. The Beginning of the End

**So I have acquired an incredible urge to write a Soulcalibur fic, despite that it will probably not receive much attention. However, I do believe this is an original idea, unused by any other author, so perhaps a few of you will appreciate it.**

**Also, this first chapter only includes OC's, and is a little slow, but it is necessary to introduce the main character, as well as the basis for the whole story, so please bear with me.  
**

* * *

_Humanity. The only living beings in all of existence to be blessed with one thing that all other creatures cannot possess; a soul. And with it, all that having a soul entitles. Only humanity possessed such things as will, choice, morality, reason, creativity, self-worth, and other subtle signs of intelligent existence, things that the other beasts of the world could not have. And thus, _thought Demeter, _their kind is doomed to a perpetual struggle, a conflict that arose between all of humanity, regardless of time or place, or dimension, or any other fabric of reality. Because of their soul, humanity was destined to destroy each other, to lead themselves to their own extinction, time and time again.  
_

It had happened many times before. Since the dawn of time and the beginning of man, Humanity had been wiped out of existence by their own destructive nature, only to be reborn with the next eon, and therefore begin the never-ending Cycle of annihilation once more. And so the time for such a thing drew near once again. She, Demeter, knew all too well the signs of humanity's impending doom, as she had seen it happen innumerable times since she had achieved her immortality._  
_

Unfathomable years ago, she, as well as her friends; Apollo, Eros, and Artemis, had lived in the end of days, their world having been ravaged by war and hate until the last vestiges of humanity were mere tribes whose lives would be cut short by the Doomsayers' Plague, which had ended mankind in that forgotten era. Only, not all of the humans had died. Demeter and her three friends, knowing the time of mankind was coming to an end in that world, had devoted their entire lives to searching for the one thing that would save them; the Antrum De Perditus Animas. The Grotto of Lost Souls. And in the final days of that world, they had accomplished their life ambition, engraving them into the passages of time for eternity.

Many millenia after The Four achieved their immortality, and after many rebirths of the still mortal mankind, a society of humans had found vague signs of the existence of The Four, and had worshiped them as gods, along with many other nonexistent beings that they believed governed the world. The Four had kept the names the humans had given them, for entering the Grotto of Lost Souls had stripped them of their original identities.

The place The Four had found themselves in after entering the Grotto had been a perfect world, a shining citadel comprised of the very fabric of time and space, which they named Valhalla, after a another culture had suspected its existence. From here, The Four could watch over the progress of humanity, until that era of mankind reached its conclusion, and all of human kind was wiped out. And they had, since their arrival in Valhalla. It was tiresome, watching all of the progress of the beings The Four were once a part of being erased after every few centuries. Sometimes they advanced for thousands of years before their time came, and other times they lasted for only a century or two.

Each and every one of those times, The Four had been powerless to stop the destruction, but this time was different. There was a palpable vibe in the very fabric of the universe, a vibe that only The Four could feel. This time, the endless Cycle could be broken; this time, humanity could be saved, but only if The Four intervened. And for once, out of all the countless times the End had occurred, they had the proper tools to do it with.

* * *

For some time now, throughout the endless Cycles of humanity's destruction and rebirth, each of The Four had saved one of the era's greatest warriors, bringing them into Valhalla, and giving them unfathomable power so that when the time came, they could serve The Four and bring salvation to a doomed humanity; the four warriors together were known as the Excubiae ex Tempore, the Sentinels of Time. Unfortunately, the time to wield the Sentinels had never come, and every eon, four new warriors would be selected to serve The Four.

Each of the Sentinels served one of The Four, and each was gifted with the manipulation of an element of their own choice, along with the incredible power that The Four had also bestowed upon them.

Until recently, the Sentinels of Time had been incomplete, for one of their number was absent. Of all of The Four, Eros had yet to decide on a mortal to be her Sentinel for this eon, until a decade ago, when she had finally selected a mortal man to serve her. With this man's addition to the Sentinels, they were complete once more.

* * *

Helios, Sentinel of Apollo, was used to such long silences from The Four whenever they called the Sentinels to Council. They seemed to remain silent for ages as their infinite minds pondered things beyond that of their Sentinels, who were left to dwell on their own mortal thoughts until The Four were ready to speak.

Helios was accustomed to such a thing, however, as he was the oldest of The Sentinels, chosen many millenia ago by Apollo to reside in Valhalla and serve his will. Since then, he had been part of many a Council with The Four, as well as the other Sentinels as the remaining lords selected their warriors over the centuries.

In all of that time, Helios had noticed that the Great Hall that Council was held in had never changed in any aspect. The Great Colonnade still marked the entrance into the Hall that sported massive chandeliers and many banquet tables, as well as the four thrones that The Four resided on. Each of these things was a duplicate of something from the mortal world, a deceiving manifestation that made the place seem more natural, instead of a twisted realm that consisted of time and space itself.

It was in this Great Hall that the Sentinels each bowed before their respective lords, awaiting The Four to tell them why they had been summoned. As they waited, Helios examined the other Sentinels on his left who maintained the same pose as he, bent on one knee with head bowed in reverence to whichever of their lords they belonged to, be it Apollo, Artemis, Demeter, or Eros.

Beside him on his left was Theron, Sentinel of Artemis, who had found favor with his incredible skills as a marksman and hunter back when he was mortal. He was the second oldest, and also the most reserved. He spoke only when there was something important to say, and otherwise refrained from conversation, content with analyzing surrounding world in silence. Theron had chosen the element of ice to be under his command, and Artemis had granted it to him.

Beside Theron was Xandra, Demeter's Sentinel, who selected the woman for her love of nature and stout determination in defending it from all who would dare harm the grandeur that was the natural world. She had arrived in Valhalla a few decades after Theron, making her the third oldest of the four Sentinels. She was outspoken in her beliefs, yet tended to avoid contact with the other Sentinels, content to spend her time at Valhalla's beautiful gardens, forests, and lakes, or other such things. She had requested the element of wind, believing it was closest to nature, and Demeter had granted her wish, most pleased with her decision.

And finally, beside Xandra, was the Sentinel's newest member; Chrysaor, selected warrior of Eros, her Sentinel and servant. He had been brought into Valhalla a mere decade ago, although at that time it had been almost three-thousand years since Xandra had been selected. Eros was known for being very selective of her Sentinels, and she never revealed to the other lords why she chose whoever she did. In fact, Helios knew very little about Chrysaor, which he knew was not the man's real name. After all, all of the Sentinels adopted new names when they entered Valhalla; Helios had forgotten his human name many ages ago, and he cared nothing for it. He had even forgotten most of his own past, the only exceptions being things he chose to archive in his mind.

Chrysaor had not shown any of his skills or shared any personal thoughts with the other Sentinels since arriving in Valhalla. He had been very quiet, secluding himself in the quarters he chose, which were, not surprisingly, separated from the main area of Valhalla, were The Four and the other three Sentinels spent their time. Helios had only ever seen the man speak with Eros, the lord who chose him, in the private courtyard of said lord.

Yet Chrysaor, in the time he had spent here, had not spoken to the other Sentinels nor sparred with any of them, and he even refrained from speaking to the other lords, unless they spoke to him directly. All in all, the man was mystery to Helios and his other comrades. Even now, as Chrysaor bowed before Eros on her throne, no expression could be read to give Helios a clue to his thoughts. Of course, it was impossible to see behind the curved, dragon-head shaped helmet and visor the man had worn since he arrived in Valhalla. Helios had never seen his face, which was always hidden under his helm. The other Sentinels had almost identical sets of said armor, but they left their helmets off for the most part, unless they intended to spar. There were few differences in each of the Sentinel's armor, one of which was a color pattern that followed the seams and designs of the armor. Helios had orange, symbolizing his element, fire, while Xandra had green and Theron blue. Chrysaor was red, although Helios did not know what element he had chosen to command.

Each of the Sentinels also had a distinct customized part of their armor, which granted them gifts that The Four each bestowed upon them. Helios had the Horns of Calamity embedded in his helmet, a gift from Apollo that multiplied his strength a hundredfold in times of strife and crisis. Theron had the Helm of Darkness, which could make him invisible to the mortal eye, a gift from Artemis he greatly appreciated. Xandra possessed the Falcon Cloak, a gift from Demeter that allowed her to transform into a falcon at her own whim. Xandra had personally requested that one.

And finally, Chrysaor had received a mythical sword of legend, Naegling, which had once been the weapon of Beowulf, a Sentinel of ages past. Since then, Eros had placed many other enchantments on the blade, and she claimed that the sword had many other uses besides violence, although she never revealed what those uses were. Naegling had been destroyed in ages past, snapped in two when Beowulf had fought to save humanity, but it had since been reforged by The Four, and its old and gray appearance had been replaced with an iridescent rainbow, the blade changing colors and shades depending on the light.

Chrysaor always handled the fabled weapon with utmost care, as though he were worried the magical blade would be damaged or scuffed if he were careless. However, the man never removed Naegling from its golden scabbard, which was tougher than diamond, so Helios did not understand why he was even concerned for Eros' gift possibly being damaged.

Such a strange man. Helios could not help but wonder what had spurred Eros to choose him...

* * *

Eros carefully observed the four Sentinels that were arrayed in front of she and the rest of The Four. Not a one of them moved a muscle as they awaited the words of The Four, who had summoned them to receive their commands. Truthfully, Eros was nervous; only a handful of Sentinels had been dispatched in past ages to defend humanity, and although they had succeeded temporarily, in the end their efforts had done nothing to prevent the collapse of mankind.

Yet The Four made sure their fallen Sentinels were remembered in the realm of man; at the birth of every new Cycle, The Four would place pieces of ancient history that depicted the Legend of such past Sentinels as Beowulf and Arthur. This way, those brave Sentinels who had given up their lives to fight for humanity would at least be remembered, their tales sung by the bards and told by the storytellers in the mortal realm. Each Sentinel was also remembered in the Vault of Reminiscence, a certain place here in Valhalla were a statue was placed in honor of each of the past Sentinels.

Eros wondered if these four would also be added to that place before their time. Yes, all Sentinels eventually passed away after many millenia, the life-force of Valhalla unable to sustain them forever. But sometimes, the Sentinels were slain by the forces arrayed against humanity, whom they were sworn to defend. None of The Four wished to see their Sentinels slain, as each Sentinel was chosen for having the values, traits, and qualities of the lord they had been chosen by. Because of such a selection, a Sentinel was usually very close with his/her lord.

She looked down to the red-trimmed, fully-armored Sentinel at her own feet. She had been very careful in choosing her Sentinel for this era, and she had only found the perfect mortal a mere decade ago. Chrysaor, whose human name she kept to herself,(by his request) was a man after her own heart. He was not a powerful warrior like Helios, a master marksman like Theron, or even a stout defender of nature like Xandra. Physically, he was altogether weak; without the power of Valhalla, Chrysaor could never hope to defeat even the lowliest of warriors back in his own realm.

He was powerful in a different way; whereas the other Sentinels had strong bodies, Chrysaor had what Eros valued most; a strong heart. She would trade a hundred of Apollo's past warrior Sentinels for this one man. He possessed qualities that made him powerful beyond the most mighty of all warriors. For where they had power, he had compassion, and where they would offer no mercy, he would.

He adhered to the same values as Eros did, and his love for the common people and all of humanity, regardless of race, religion, or creed, made him the ultimate Sentinel when the time came for the defense of mankind.

And so it was with a heavy heart that she looked upon her Sentinel, painfully aware that he may die on his soon-to-be mission, as Apollo prepared to speak his reasons for summoning the four Sentinels.

"As you know, we do not summon the four of you together unless there is a pressing matter to attend to. However, We(The Four) believe that this matter has far surpassed any you have ever dealt with in all of your years of harmony here in Valhalla. The generation has come for you four to execute our foremost wishes; the preservation of humanity, and the final ruin of the Wheel of Despair. This is the ultimate purpose of all Sentinels, past, present, and future; to finally break the endless Cycle and set humanity free from the repeating doom that is the final consummation of their existence."

As always, the Sentinels remained both silent and still as they listened to Apollo, entranced by his eloquent speaking and aura of command.

"For when the Cycle is broken, humanity may procure their salvation, and the world, and all other worlds, will finally achieve peace, a never-ending utopia without war or strife. This is the greatest desire of The Four; and you are the instruments of that desire, wielded by us so that you may accomplish our final wish, and bring peace to this universe of turmoil and death."

When he was done speaking, he motioned over to Demeter, who would give the objective for the Sentinels, their exact will that was to be carried out.

"Earth, realm of the mortals from which all four of you hailed at some point, is nearing the end of the Cycle. Within the next century, all will be obliterated, as has occurred untold times in the past. I can feel the cries of nature from that realm as the end begins; the winds are still, the land decays, and the seas rage. These are signs that have recurred every time the Cycle has ended humanity. The time for Armageddon is nearing once more, spurred on by a never-ending conflict between good and evil that has ravished this eon. And you, as only you can truly re-enter the realm of man, must stop it, lest we fail once more in our attempt to save the human race."

She paused to let the Sentinels absorb her words. Whether they realized it or not, this was a huge undertaking; very few Sentinels had ever actually been used to try and stop the Cycle, and never had all four been deployed at once. Should a Sentinel stray from their path, their unimaginable power could wreak havoc on the world of men, although such a catastrophe had only occurred once before; needless to say Apollo had chosen his Sentinels a bit more carefully after that.

Eros wondered if even Helios, wisest of the current Sentinels, truly understood the impact of their mission: if they succeeded, the universe would be changed forever, and all souls would live in a heaven on earth for eternity...

This time, Artemis spoke, giving more details on the current situation. "We do not know what is causing the Cycle to near its end; for there is always a catalyst that prompts the Ending. We do know, however, that whatever it is possesses a physical form; meaning it, or who, can be destroyed or killed. We believe that if you accomplish this, our ultimate will shall be fulfilled, and humanity will be saved. For this reason, all four of you will be sent to Earth, and you will destroy the catalyst that will begin the Cycle."

Helios popped a question that all of the Sentinels were thinking. "Where do we look? The realm of man is enormous, and knowing the catalyst has a physical presence is not enough to identify it. Where do we start?"

Demeter answered the Sentinel of flame. "Each of you will search a different continent of the realm. Xandra, you will search the continent across the Atlantic Ocean, a place still widely untouched by man and full of the nature you so love."

Xandra said nothing, but the sense of enthusiasm that emanated from her was palpable.

Artemis then addressed Theron. "You will search the southernmost continent known as Antartica. Your element will guard you against the fierce cold that ravages that land, helping you survive whereas the other Sentinels could not."

Theron, as usual, said nothing. Instead he just nodded, showing no sign of assent or disagreement on his given task.

Eros then addressed Chrysaor, speaking just before Apollo was about to give Helios his assignment; for she suspected that neither Apollo nor Helios would agree with her choice.

"Chrysaor, Sentinel of Lightning, you will search Eurasia."

The rest of The Four turned their heads to face her, for before the Council, they had all agreed on letting Helios take Eurasia, and Chrysaor Africa.

Apollo contradicted her directive with slight irritation in his voice. "I believe she meant you would search Eurasia, Helios. Chrysaor will go to Africa."

Eros knew that he would not agree. "I urge you to let me explain; there is a very good reason for letting Chrysaor take Eurasia. Hear me out."

Apollo was more than ready to refuse her request, as he was used to being the unspoken leader of The Four. "I don't think-"

"Let her speak."

Both Apollo and Eros looked at Demeter, who had interjected. "Eros usually makes wise decisions and has strong reasons for said decisions. I say we hear her out."

Eros smiled. As she believed in love and Demeter believed in the love of nature, the two of them saw eye to eye on more things than Artemis and Apollo. Apollo quieted, seeing as it was two to one, and Artemis did not seem to want to speak. He waved his assent for Eros to explain why Chrysaor should receive Eurasia for his task.

"It is simple logic, Apollo. Eurasia is the most populated area of the realm of man; filled with civilization and citizenry. Africa is a land brimming with ferocious warriors, who will reject most outsiders. Helios is a powerful warrior, and Chrysaor has incredible influence over the average mortal; should not Helios take the more dangerous and hostile path, while Chrysaor takes the more subtle and manipulative one?"

Helios nodded. He saw no problem with this decision; he was eager for battle, not small talk and tea. Chrysaor said nothing.

Apollo, seeing the agreement of his Sentinel, sighed and waved his hand once more. "Very well. You do pose a valid point Eros, and I do not believe your soft Sentinel would survive in such conditions as we had originally planned anyway."

Eros bristled at the thinly veiled insult to Chrysaor. Apollo viewed the gentle man with much disdain, as he valued strength and power over compassion and mercy. Eros said nothing of it though; she had accomplished her goal, and she believed Chrysaor was quite happy with the results, for she knew him on a far more personal basis than the other residents of Valhalla.

Demeter stood from her throne and clapped her hands. "This discussion is over. You four have received our orders, and will have to find the catalyst of the Cycle through your own tenacity. You will be sent to the mortal realm through the Gate of Reverence. Prepare whatever you must, and make your way there."

The four Sentinels nodded and stood from their bows, turning to walk in different directions to either retrieve things they needed or to take one of the many paths to the Gate of Reverence. But before Chrysaor could leave, Eros beckoned to him.

"Come to the courtyard, my Sentinel, for I have one last gift to give you before your departure."

* * *

Chrysaor stood in the courtyard of Philia, where he and Eros had held many a conversation together, awaiting this gift she had promised him. He had no clue as to what it was, nor did he ponder that answer, for Naegling was enough to protect him from all but the most powerful of forces.

His musings were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. He didn't turn to face the source, for he already knew it was his lord Eros, the only other being besides him that could enter this place.

She wasted no time in getting to the point, for the other Sentinels had most likely already left the solace of Valhalla to pursue their objectives. "I think you will find this gift most useful, although you will not know why until long from now, Church."

Chrysaor turned to face her as she uttered his human name. She only addressed him as such in the most personal of their conversations.

When she turned to look at her, he noticed her smiling face as she motioned for him to look down at his waist. Surprisingly, it seemed that Eros had already granted him his gift, if that was what the new addition to his armor was. It was a fauld, or it looked like one at least. However, it was no ordinary piece of armor; it was an angel wing, just one, that protruded from the left hip of his armor and down to where his foot was.

It was a pure white, stark contrast to the dark red that symbolized his command over lightning. The silver of his Leviathan armor matched quite nicely with it though, and he rather liked the look of it, as it gave him a more impressive appearance.

Yet he could see no practical purpose for the thing, other than the fact that it made him look cool. "What exactly does it do? I see no real application for it..."

Eros smiled and winked at him. Although she was in fact incredibly ancient, both her appearance as a blonde, beautiful maiden, but also personality, made her seem as more of a young woman. If Chrysaor didn't have such a motherly relationship with her, she would have seemed very attractive.

"You will find that it makes you more...charming."

Chrysaor did not understand such a vague reply. "Charming?"

Eros laughed, a beautiful sound that reminded him of his human mother who had passed away... he grimaced at the use of such a euphemism; his mother, indeed, his entire village, had been murdered, not 'passed away.'

Eros noted the vibe of sadness that permeated his mortal frame, as she had the power to detect such things. "I do not know what ails you, Church; however, know that your journey will not be so bad as you think. In fact, a wonderful gift awaits you if you can complete it, a reward from me you will find more pleasant than any you have ever received, and indeed your rejoicing shall yet make my heart ache, although I will still be happy for you."

Chrysaor knew not what she meant as she spoke those words, but he felt a sort of happy-sad mix in the tone, and he could not help but wonder what such a fabulous and amazing gift could be. He did not imagine many things could make him happy after losing all that he loved and being separated from the world.

Eros took his hand in hers and proceeded to walk him out of the courtyard, their destination being the Gate of Reverence. Chrysaor said nothing as he walked, pondering the words his lord had spoken as well as the mission that lied ahead.

* * *

At the gate, Eros and the rest of The Four watched as Chrysaor, the final Sentinel to depart, was whisked from their sight by an aurora of rainbow colors, nothing left of where he stood except a lingering afterimage of his body. The transportation to the mortal realm had always been so sudden.

The other three of The Four left their places and returned to the inner city of Valhalla, the last Sentinel having been sent on his quest, but Eros remained, looking after her servant and Sentinel. For what none of the others had seen she had; only she had seen the tears of amber joy that fell from Chrysaor's soul,for the torment that separated him from his world had received a brief respite, and he would embrace every moment of it, once again enjoying the freedom he knew as a man.'

Eros hoped it would not be the end of him though; for she knew the trials and suffering that awaited him would be no easy task, and many beings, mortal and Sentinel alike, had succumbed to the destructive force ot the darkest of souls, unable to withstand their might and fury. It was a fate that she hoped with all of her heart would not befall Church, for she loved him like a son.

Yet if fate really existed, then these efforts were futile, and Eros and her allies had just sent four brave souls into a spiral of darkness, where their bodies and souls would be consumed, and they, like the rest of humanity, would be lost to the Void.

* * *

**Just a note, this fic will include ALL SC characters. Yes, ALL OF THEM(Except maybe one or two from SC 2 and 3. Some will of course have a larger role than others, but all will make an appearance at some point. And in case I couldn't fit it in the summary, the timeframe is from before SC 4 and into SC 5, just so you know. And it won't be so hard to understand in the future; I know I used some advanced wording and Vocabulary in this chapter, but only because we were looking through the minds of infinite immortals, so I felt their thoughts should be more sophisticated.**

** And little note on describing that angel wing thing Chrysaor now wears; (Any of you played Final Fantasy 13-2? Pretty similar to that wing Lightning has. If you haven't, well, use your imagination.)  
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**Please leave a PM or Review if you like it, for if it does not receive much attention, I will return to my other works-in-progress.  
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**Thanks for reading~Shadow0Fire  
**


	2. Cause and Effect

**So usually I wouldn't write a second chapter so soon, but I feel that readers will get more into the story if actual Soul Calibur characters are introduced. And of course I'd prefer it if that happened, because more interest equals more hits which equals more feedback and self-satisfaction. Anyway, this chapter jumps between multiple people's perspectives so take notice of those lines that separate the thing; they serve a great purpose.  
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* * *

Siegfried Schtauffen shot upright as he awoke from a fitful rest, his hand flying to the hilt of Soulcalibur as he did so. As he wrapped his hand around the Spirit Sword's handle, a wave of emotions, thoughts, and fears rushed through him. He gasped as he felt these things, for they felt like a cold current coursing through his very veins.

It was undoubtedly the power of Soulcalibur, which he had felt as often as he wielded the sword in battle. But the power of the sword was different this time. Instead of strengthening him, as it usually did, it poured its mind into his, showing him things he did not understand.

A maelstrom of emotions welled up inside of him, although he knew they belonged to the living sword and not himself. He could not decipher most of the emotions, for Soulcalibur's inner workings were beyond him, however, he could determine two of them; one was hope, a glimmer of it that was overpowered by one other thing; fear. Sheer, absolute terror was pouring out of Soulcalibur, and Siegfried knew not why. Finally, after what felt like eternity, the cascade of uncontrolled feelings quieted, and the power of the spirit sword withdrew from him entirely.

He released the hilt of the blade, uneasiness in his heart, for never had he felt _fear _such as that. His own heart raced like a horse eager to gallop across the miles as he sat in the bed of the inn room he had rented whilst staying in this countryside town. He knew not what to do, as he waited for peace to reassert itself in him, but he knew he would get no more sleep tonight. As he calmed himself, he reached for his shed armor in the corner of the room, eager to leave the place where such a fearful premonition had taken place.

* * *

"TIRA! COME TO ME! NOW!"

Tira nearly fell off of the watchtower she was sitting on as Nightmare's bellow reached her ears and scattered the Watchers she had been attending to. The fact that she, out here on one of Ostreinhsburg's many towers, could hear him, all the way in the throne room, meant that the Azure Knight was very, very angry, and Tira bolted towards the sound of his booming voice as quickly as possible, lest she incur his wrath even further for being to slow in responding to his call.

As she ran, or more accurately sprinted, to the throne room, a thought from her gloomy side presided over the rush to reach her master.

**Stupid Nightmare! He probably scared off the ravens for a week! And now I'll have to find a way to bring each and every one of them back and calm them all down and everything! **

As she rounded the corner of one of the many hallways that would lead her to Nightmare's throne, her jolly side tried to put a positive spin on things.

_But at least it'll be fun, right? You kept saying you were bored anyway, now that there aren't any souls to collect for Master, so it might not be all bad!  
_

**Getting our birds to come back is NOT fun! We don't have anything else to do here except take care of them, so until they come back it'll be terrible!**

_Well, maybe it can be a game, like hide-and-seek! Stop being so moody about everything, sheesh!_

Tira's conflicting personalities continued to squabble over their beloved birds until they entered the throne room, where the sight of Nightmare nervously pacing in front of the throne instead of sitting on it distracted her from her inward argument.

Nightmare was _never _nervous. He didn't pace; ever! He just sat on that throne of his and issued orders and yelled at people when they didn't do things right. Despite these thoughts, Tira decided to quickly move to her place and bow before Nightmare, lest he catch her staring and get even angrier than he usually was.

As she bowed, Nightmare continued to pace back and forth in front of the throne, and began dragging the tip of Soul Edge's blade along the stone floor, emitting a high-pitched screeching that made Tira want to cover her ears. As she waited for Nightmare to address her, she couldn't help but notice that Soul Edge itself looked as though it was agitated. It's grotesque eye darted erratically to and fro, as if desperately searching the massive chamber for something it had lost, and the flesh-like part of the sword itself was writhing, as if out of pain of irritation.

After a few more minutes, and it became obvious to Tira that Nightmare wasn't noticing her presence, she decided she would have to alert him that she was here.

"Uh, Master, I'm here, like you asked."

She kept her voice as low as possible, in hopes of keeping Nightmare's obvious agitation directed at something else besides her.

To no avail. Nightmare turned his crimson gaze towards the girl in the harlequin-like red outfit and roared,

"ASKED? I DON'T ASK! I COMMAND, AND YOU OBEY!"

Tira cringed at the rage emanating from him; he hadn't yelled at her in a long time, for of all of those who served Soul Edge besides Nightmare himself, Tira was the most reliable. She usually got things done fast and the way Nightmare wanted them done, unlike that bumbling, rumbling giant Astaroth. He had done nothing useful except kill the occasional band of adventurer's outside of the castle, unlike Tira, who was an active hunter of souls for her master Nightmare.

So all of this yelling at her was unusual, and Tira didn't like it one bit. She simply bowed even further, her pigtails practically brushing the floor, and apologized for offending her master.

"Y-yes! I'm sorry, Master. You ordered me, and I obeyed, as I should!"

Nightmare growled, seemingly dissatisfied by the girl's rushed apology, but he said nothing. Instead, he resumed pacing for several minutes. Tira, afraid to say anything and therefore tempt fate with her untimely demise, kept her mouth shut. After many minutes of this situation, Nightmare finally returned to his place on the throne, but his posture was still tense, and his grip on the hilt of Soul Edge was so powerful that a normal weapon would have shattered. Clearly his apprehension had not dissipated, despite his seemingly calm return to the throne.

Tira tried to judge his thoughts as best she could without looking directly at him. Of course, it was hard to tell what kind of emotions that azure armor entity was thinking, considering he didn't have a physical body; and even though his horned helm may have counted as a face, it's expression was always the same, so it didn't matter. But nevertheless, his whole demeanor; his nervousness, quick-temper, and even his posture on the throne, seemed to combine to form one thing; fear. Tira couldn't be sure, but it seemed to her that Nightmare, of all people, was afraid. He gripped Soul Edge like he was preparing for a fight, and his eyes scanned the chamber unremittingly, as if searching for some unseen assassin. Tira thought it was kind of funny, that both Soul Edge and the wielder of the Cursed Sword were behaving quite similarly.

A faint grin appeared on her face as she thought of it, only for her thoughts to be interrupted by Nightmare.

"Tira!"

She flinched and squeezed her eyes shut, thinking that the Azure Knight had seen her smile and was about to punish her for it, but blows did not rain on her as she had expected them to.  
When she dared to crack open one of her purple eyes to check on things, she realized that Nightmare was waiting for her to acknowledge him, so that he could issue his orders.

She spoke tentatively, eager to keep Nightmare from raging again. "Y-yes, Master?"

Nightmare flexed the large claw that held Soul Edge, as if holding the sword was paining him. However, his voice showed no pain, but instead it had an underlying tone of worry as he gave Tira her orders.

"You are leaving Ostreinhsburg; there is a soul I need you to hunt. A very specific one."

If Tira hadn't been so afraid of Nightmare's anger at that time, she would have celebrated. Both her personalities were ecstatic to finally leave this stupid castle and go killing again. She had run out of nearby villagers to hunt quite a while ago.

"Where is it, Master? Who am I hunting? Oh, is it Sophitia?! I'd like to finally kill her!"

Nightmare slammed his normal fist into the arm of his throne chair, causing a bone-shattering crack to resound within the throne room. Clearly she had overstepped her boundaries.

"SILENCE, FOOLISH GIRL! I AM SPEAKING!"

Tira clamped her mouth shut, fear easily overcoming her curiosity as to the identity of her prey.

Nightmare grumbled, his deep voice causing a faint rumble in the floor. "I do not know the identity of this soul... it is unfamiliar to me."

Tira was shocked. Usually Nightmare always knew who he wanted gone; that he didn't even know who the target was... was pretty strange, to say the least.

Nightmare continued. "However, I do know where it is. It is far in the East, near the continent of Asia."

Tira's gloomy side thought incredulously,** Oh really? How descriptive. It's SOMEWHERE near Asia. Does he even know how large Asia is!?**

Of course she didn't say that. Nightmare was irritable enough as it was, and she had no qualms about keeping said irritation to a minimum.

Fortunately Nightmare did know a little bit more info than that. "This soul rages with an incredible power... it is far from this place, yet Soul Edge still feels its presence as though it were within the castle itself. You must find it, and tell who or what the owner of this power is. It is a danger to me, and it must be consumed."

He still hadn't told Tira _where _she was supposed to go yet, but she still refrained from speaking.

Nightmare paused in thought, no doubt the powerful force of this soul bothering him. But when he continued, he showed new resolve. "This soul is not yet on land... you must find a place to await it's arrival."

Tira was confused. So she was just supposed to pick a place and hope that this soul found her? How the heck was that supposed to work?

Nightmare quieted as he pondered where Tira should wait for her prey. "Hmm...Ah, there is the remnants of a place known as the Ling-Sheng Su temple. It was destroyed by the Evil Seed, but there is little doubt that this soul will investigate that place. Soul Edge is sure of it; whatever being possesses this soul is attempting to locate the power of Soul Edge, and will investigate places where its power lingers. You must find this temple, and wait for this soul to arrive. Find out who or what it is."

Tira thought Nightmare had calmed just enough to ask a question, and she needed to clarify this anyway; "Find out? You mean...I shouldn't kill it? Just leave it alone?"

Nightmare's crimson eyes flared for a moment, and Tira was sure she had just angered him again, but then he returned to normal and answered Tira in a surprisingly tender tone. "No. It is too powerful, and will kill you if you fight it. I do not wish for you to die, and would prefer it if you return to my side once your mission is complete."

Tira's heart skipped a beat as she heard these words. Nightmare was...worried about her? Her master...cared about her? The joy that filled her then was incredible; it reminded her of the days she spent with her teacher in the Birds of Passage, the woman who had cared for her so much. The only person Tira knew had ever truly loved her.

She replied to Nightmare enthusiastically, "Of course, Master! I'll leave right away, and do what you command, so I can come back and serve you forever!"

* * *

Nightmare watched as Tira finished her response and then gleefully bounded away to grab Eiserne Drossel from her room before he even finished speaking. No matter; she had the gist of what he had commanded her to do, and he knew that the most reliable of his servants would get it done.

Still, what a foolish girl. To so readily accept his false words of concern for her. He cared for no human, malfested or not, and his words had only been used to strengthen Tira's loyalty in performing this task.

Of course, he didn't wish for her to die yet. After all, if she died, he wouldn't know what this powerful new soul was.

Speaking of such a thing, Nightmare's thoughts returned to how he had first detected it. Or them, rather; there had actually been four of these incredibly powerful souls, detected far in the west, the south, and in the east by Soul Edge. And that was what worried him. Of course Soul Edge had the power to detect strong souls, but these four were so powerful they could be sensed from here; which was worrisome.

And furthermore; Soul Edge had not responded to the detection of these souls as it usually did. Instead of the intense hunger to consume, the Cursed Sword had been thrown into a terrible tantrum of rage and fear.

_Fear. _It was a foreign word to the Azure Knight. An alien one. One he was never in the same room with. Yes, he knew what fear was, but he never felt it. He was the one who _caused _fear, struck it into the hearts of humanity. He was surrounded by fear, but he had never known it. Until now. Until mere hours ago, when his grip on Soul Edge formed a connection between the minds of the two evil beings, and the all consuming fear had poured out of the flesh-like blade.

Honestly, Nightmare was a little scared too. Soul Edge did not even fear the Spirit Sword in such a way. What force in this world could truly strike fear in the Cursed Sword greater than that of Soulcalibur? While the answer to that question did intrigue his fell mind, on many levels he did not wish to know, nor was he eager to meet that power.

Still, the four souls that had so suddenly been detected were far off from Ostreinhsburg, and he yet had servants to carry out his will should they be hostile. It was a good way to dispose of the useless malfested servants anyway, and Nightmare had no qualms about using this new power to unwittingly take out his trash. That comforting thought filled him as he resided on his throne, awaiting for the next whim of fate to strike the world he so detested.

* * *

Voldo sat motionless beside the tomb of his old master, Vercci, guarding the treasure he had finally managed to recover from the thieves who had ransacked it in his absence. His vigil was for now undisturbed by anything or anyone, and no sound beside the constant drip of water in the pit could be heard. Because of this, he was satisfied.

His mind focused only on that dripping of liquid, and all other things seemed to cease existing for a few minutes. So was the peacefulness that presided over the money pit, until a rumbling blast of sound consumed the silence of the pit from the outside, shaking the ground and toppling precarious piles of money. Voldo jerked, shocked out of his stupor by the strength of the blast and the wall of sound that had shattered his peace and severely damaged his over-sensitive ears.

After the painful ringing had stopped, his first thought was that the blast had sounded a lot like cannon fire. Cervantes, perhaps? Voldo had always thought that the once loose business partner of Vercci's would come to steal the treasure here; and why not? Only he, Vercci's loyal servant, guarded this place. He would fulfill his master's wishes no matter what the cost, and quickly scampered, slithered, and crawled towards the source of the disturbance.

* * *

Chrysaor was sprawled out on his back, in pose somewhat similar to being spreadeagled as he recovered from his violent entry into the mortal realm. He knew not where he was, for his vision was totally dark, the few lights he did see blurred, and it was taking its sweet time in clearing up. His entire body felt as if it was on fire, but the spasmodic pain in his muscles kept him from making any move to deal with the sensation.

And so he lay motionless, trying to determine his surroundings through the senses that were not damaged. Through his helmet, he heard many things that were quite familiar to him. The lapping of the waves against the seashore, the squawking of flocks of birds as their rest had been disturbed, and the sound of a mild ocean breeze echoing through his helm.

As he took account of all of these things, his vision had cleared somewhat, and the pain in his muscles had eased a bit. He slowly sat up and cracked open his eyes, still hidden behind the dragon-head helm he wore, and observed the area with his sight as well as his hearing.

He first saw the vast ocean that stretched from the beach he was on out to the horizon, and the stark blue sky above it. He reached a trembling hand out towards a velvet sky that he wished he could feel, to confirm that it actually existed. Oh, the sweet things of this world he was now seeing. How he had longed for them, to see and smell and hear them once more, instead of the eerie quiet and dreary onyx of Valhalla.

Chrysaor began to cry, the tears falling into the bottom of his helmet unchecked. This was his world; this was his home. He had been separated from it for nearly a decade, and the pure joyful bliss of returning to it overwhelmed him. He knew not how long he remained there, crying as that sheer joy filled him, but when he was finally through, he noticed that the sun had sunk a bit closer to the horizon, tingeing the sky a fiery orange with little wisps of clouds that almost seemed pinkish. The grandeur of the sunset almost made him cry all over again. This was also something he had missed during his time in Valhalla. He remembered watching so many similar sunsets with his little sister.

He looked down at the ground to avoid focusing on the beauty of the sky, and finally noticed that what he sat on was not sand, but instead glass. Fascinated by this, he turned to look behind him, and noticed for the first time the carnage his entry into this realm had wrought.

A large, rough-edged circle of glass marked where Chrysaor had landed; he knew what had caused this. He, as the Sentinel of Lightning, had his entry marked by a powerful lightning strike, and the tremendous heat and rapid cooling had almost instantly vitrified the sand it had struck. What really surprised him was the destruction further inland of the area. Several of the tropical trees had been either incinerated or splintered into many pieces, and the ground itself looked as if a small meteor had impacted the ground, instead of a heavily armored Sentinel.

Ironic, that the very nature he had missed so much in Valhalla had been destroyed by him in his transportation here. Currently though, he cared little for the trees and the dirt, and he returned his veiled gaze to the ocean beyond.

It lingered there, his thoughts now focused on his objective. How was he to find this catalyst that The Four spoke of? The first step was to figure out where he was. In this respect, he had an advantage over the other Sentinels, who had been gone from the world far longer than he. Still, his surroundings indicated that he was on some sort of island, and if it was uninhabited, he'd be in quite a spot of trouble...

His thoughts were interrupted by the pitter-patter of light footsteps behind him, signaling the presence of some other human or animal. And in his naïvety, he turned to offer a handshake instead of Naegling's blade. As he did, a pair of hands wrapped around his neck, and he was flipped over someone's back and slammed into the ground. He tried to get up to view his assailant, but before he could, several thumps resounded against his armor as his attacker practically _crab-walked _over him, stabbing his torso multiple times with strange claw-like things.

After the unknown attacker passed over him, its blows deflected by Chysaor's sturdy armor, the Sentinel rolled to his feet and shot a none-to-pleased glare at his enemy. Who, or what, ever it was, was quite surprising. Some sort of gray-skinned humanoid thing with straps and scraps of clothing wrapped around it, with a set of goggle like things where its eyes should be, and a mouth gagged by one of the straps that wrapped around this thing's body. As he looked down at its hands, he noticed that it was not claws the creature wielded, but actually katars, a unique weapon that did not find much use these days.

The creature even stood in a strange way, its feet sliding across the ground without the thing actually moving, which didn't seem physically possible. Whatever it was seemed human, and it had yet to attack him again, so he thought that he may try reason with it.

Holding up his hands in the universal sign of peace, Chrysaor said, "I do not wish to fight you. If we can but talk-!"

His useless attempt at peace was interrupted when the creature sprinted forward, flipped around, and kicked Chrysaor in the head. He stumbled backwards, not so much injured by the blow as he was staggered in his unpreparedness for it.

Now Chrysaor was a gentle man, but when things refused to even acknowledge his wishes for peace, he tended to lose his temper. He pulled Naegling from its golden sheath, and the last rays of the sun at his back caused the magical blade to shimmer an iridescent orange, much like the sky above him. He held the blade diagonally in front of him, a stance he deemed most efficient for blocking multiple unexpected attacks.

As he reoriented himself to face his opponent, he noticed that he/she/it had not turned to face him yet, but instead remained crouched and showing its back to him, as if it intended to fight him while looking in the opposite direction. Somehow that angered Chrysaor even more. Was this thing so cocky that it thought it could-!

Again, his train of thought was interrupted by a katar stabbing him in the face. The blow bounced off his helm, but the force of the impact snapped Chrysaor's head backwards anyway. He angrily retaliated by swinging his fist at the creature's head, but it nimbly dodged the backhanded blow and freakishly rolled out of striking distance.

Chrysaor was actually glad that the blow did not find its mark, for he had not restrained his force in his anger, and the fist would have easily pulverized the skull of crocodile, and that was saying something. He did not wish to make a bloody mess out of his attacker, despite its successful attempts at patronizing him, and he would be more careful to gauge the strength of his attacks from now on.

The creature made a strange hissing noise and ran like a clown at him, this time opting for an uppercut with its right katar. Chrysaor, being the manipulator of the element of speed, used his lightning fast reflexes to intercept the weapon, and then proceeded to use the immense force he possessed as a Sentinel to splinter the blades of the katar by merely clenching his fist.

The creature stumbled backwards in astonishment at Chrysaor's extraordinary strength, and the armored warrior took advantage of the moment to send his fist flying into the creature's face, sending it several feet backwards and easily fracturing its jaw. It would seem that Naegling would not even be necessary.

Chrysaor's downed adversary squirmed on the ground for a few moments before staggering to its feet and holding the side of its head. Chrysaor made no advances on it during this time, as he had no desire to slay the thing, and instead gave it time to recover.

Once it had finally regained its senses, it resumed its creepy combat stance and began moving towards him again. Persistent creep, although stupid, apparently. Chrysaor raised Naegling above his head, and readied himself to end this fight by incapacitating his enemy with a well-aimed bolt of electricity. But before he could finish accumulating the required energy for such an attack, the creature stopped abruptly in front of him and cocked its head to the side, as if listening to the sound of some approaching danger. Then it quickly turned around an d retreated into the tropic plant-life of this island or coast, disappearing from Chrysaor's sight. He kept his blade in front of him, anticipating some sort of deception or trickery, but several minutes with nothing eventful occurring convinced him otherwise.

He sheathed Naegling, wondering why his opponent had retreated, besides the fact that it was simply no match for him. His answer came a few moments later when he heard the shouts of many men and the rowing of oars in the ocean behind him.

He turned to face them, surprised to find a small band of men in rowboats coming this way and a larger sailing vessel anchored a ways off, covering the sun that was now just barely peeking over the edge of the world. Chrysaor scratched the back of his helm in embarrassment. His situational awareness levels were seriously lacking after all those years of doing nothing.

* * *

**I don't think I have ever written two 4000+ length chapters one right after another. Usually 3000-3500 seems good to me. **

**But hopefully introducing some actual Soul Calibur characters will garner some more interest in this story, because I have a hunger to write it and I need readers to keep it going. Come to me, little peoples!  
**

**No, but seriously, thanks for reading, and please feel free( Or feel oppressed, I don't care) to review, PM or email feedback to me. Please? Do you have any idea how depressing it is to not get any feedback for all of this hard work?! WELL?!  
**

**Thanks for reading~Shadow0Fire  
**


	3. Meeting of Faith

**Here comes Shadow0Fire, creating joy with every word he writes! Look, this is a story in a very large category, so it's hard to get readers! Please recommend it to others if you have time! I'd really appreciate it!**

* * *

Chrysaor shifted his weight from side to side as he balanced himself on the lurching deck of the Valiant Gale; a ship crewed by several foreign men who spoke in a language Chrysaor could not understand. They did not seem like pirates however; they were not like the aggressive and violent sailors the Sentinel of Lightning had met back in his mortal life. They were still uncouth and foul-mouthed, mind you, but they seemed to be a kinder breed of people.

That did not mean however, that they weren't ready to run him through at the slightest hint of hostility. Chrysaor had refused to be tied to the mast of the ship, but he did at least agree to lean against it while his captors pointed curved swords and spears at him. There was no chance that they could actually subdue him should Chrysaor decide to leave his assigned place, but for now the fully armored immortal had no desire to do so. He needed to learn something about where he was and how the world had changed during his absence.

So he instead did as he had been asked, and leaned against the large center mast of the Valiant Gale, not at all unnerved about the multiple pointy weapons that were angled in his direction. He had actually been there all night; not sleeping, but instead staring down the night guards that had been assigned to watch him. The guards thought Chrysaor was going to kill them, but he had only been entertaining himself with the sailor's reactions. When the guards had changed shifts this morning, Chrysaor had been no more tired than the day before. A surplus of energy from Valhalla would support the Sentinel for a long time yet, and his need for sleep, food, and other human necessities did not weigh as heavily on him as it did when he was mortal.

One of the more lazy guards was dozing off in the midday heat, and his comrades did nothing to wake him. Faster than the eye could see, yet lighter than a feather, Chrysaor tapped the dozing man on the shoulder, jolting him awake with a tiny static shock. His head snapped up and he stumbled backwards, falling to his rear and scrambling away, apparently afraid that Chrysaor had hurt him in some way. The rest of his friends all skipped backwards away from him, clearly frightened of the now chuckling Sentinel.

One of the startled men pointed his shamshir looking blade at him. "D-don't come any closer! I-I won't hesitate to kill you if I must!"

Chrysaor continued to laugh cheerfully. "No need for that. I was actually doing him a favor. Wouldn't want the captain to find one of his guards falling asleep while on duty,yeah?"

None of the men answered the rhetorical question. They instead cast sideways glances at each other, acknowledging that their prisoner made a valid point, and that he didn't seem to have really done any harm to the man who had almost fallen asleep.

Chrysaor took advantage of the silence to continue. "Speaking of which, when do I meet your captain? I have quite a few important questions to ask him. "

The Sentinel's question was not answered by any of the guardsmen, but by a rather gruff voice behind them.

"If it is as urgent as you say, then we may speak now."

The three guards who were watching over Chrysaor scrambled away from their charge, turning to salute a man on the stairs that led to the ship's stern. He had spiky, rust colored hair that was held up by a headband and a curved sword at his hip. Something about his countenance made Chrysaor believe he knew how to use it.

"C-Captain Hwang! There is no need for you to concern yourself with this man, sir! We have him under control!"

The captain stepped down from the stairs and eyed the man who had spoken to him with a stony gaze. "Judging by what I just witnessed, you clearly DO NOT have him under control. Double kitchen duty for all three of you."

Chrysaor smirked under his helmet, even though none of these four men could see it. "C'mon, cut them a break Cap'. You couldn't control me if the entire crew was here. And that includes you." Now Chrysaor didn't really intend to insult this man, but he knew that the best way to get him to cooperate was to gain his respect; and the best way to do that was by winning a fight.

The captain turned his gaze to Chrysaor. "You speak quite arrogantly. Yet you know little of who we are or our skills."

Chrysaor tried to sound as stuck-up as he could as he replied. "I don't need to know. No matter how good you think you are, you're no match for me."

The captain smirked. "We shall see. Someone return his blade to him. I, Hwang of the Seong clan, shall test your words against the flame of truth and skill. And when I am done, only your charred husk will remain."

As one of the guardsmen retrieved Naegling from within the ship and returned it to him, Chrysaor couldn't help but respond sarcastically. "Hey, that's not very nice. It's not good to talk about yourself that way."

That was the final straw. The captain whipped his sword from his sheath and swung it at Chrysaor's armored throat, the blade moving so fast you could hear it cut the wind. Chrysaor had just enough time to duck underneath the blade's deadly edge, and only then because he had enhanced reflexes. Instead of cutting into the Sentinel's armor, it slashed the mast behind him instead. Surprisingly, the dense wood offered little resistance to the blade of his enemy.

Chrysaor used the crouch he was now in to launch himself upward and send both of his feet into the man's chest. An unorthodox move, but Chrysaor needed space, and the powerful drop kick would give it to him. Hwang's reflexes were impressive however, and he brought the flat of his blade in front of his torso to deflect the blow before it hit him.

Despite the successful block, the force of the attack still sent his opponent flying backwards several feet, and he crashed into the wooden stairs he had stood on a few minutes earlier with a resounding crack. As he landed back on his feet, Chrysaor briefly wondered if he had accidentally broken the man's spine. He had been careful to gauge his strength, but he was unused to actually battling physical enemies. All of his training in Valhalla had been against ghostly apparitions that possessed no physical form; and there had been no need to check himself when it came to force.

His worries were quickly assuaged as Hwang recovered from his crash, and the only thing that seemed hurt about him was his pride. Chrysaor was actually quite pleased with this outcome. If his opponent was defeated so easily, then he would more likely harbor feelings of resentment rather than respect.

Chrysaor drew Naegling from its sheath, and this time it shimmered an iridescent sky blue, a reflection of the ocean and sky around him. Holding the legendary weapon in front of him, Chrysaor awaited Hwang's advance. He did not have long to wait. The man rushed forward to meet Chrysaor's blade, which the Sentinel was only too happy to parry. Or that had been the plan. Just before reaching him, Hwang stopped and retreated a step, throwing Chrysaor off-balance when his outstretched blade met air instead of steel.

"There is a gap in your defense!" Hwang cried as he lunged at the exposed Sentinel, ramming the tip of his blade into the metal covered abdomen of his enemy.

The attack failed to pierce his adamantine armor, but the brunt of the blow knocked the wind out of Chrysaor, and he doubled over out of reflex. Pulling his sword away from the undamaged body of his opponent, Hwang took advantage of his position to stomp down on Chrysaor's head, sending his helmeted face into the wooden deck, and effectively ticking the Sentinel off.

Hwang relaxed the foot that rested on Chrysaor's helm, thinking that he had attained victory. The subsequent event of him being launched into the air by an uppercut to the face convinced him otherwise. Being launched into the air several feet by Chrysaor's incredible strength gave the angered Sentinel plenty of time to spout off another insult before attacking again.

"A very poor mistake, my friend. I HAVE NO WEAK POINTS!"

Hwang was about to return from his unappreciated flight when Chrysaor used his extreme speed to bolt forward and plant a flying kick in his gut. Hwang was sent careening into a pile of barrels, which, upon shattering from the impact, Chrysaor identified as containing rum. Hwang lay crumpled in that pile of splintered wood, his clothes drenched in the dark fluid, and Chrysaor was pretty sure he was down for the count this time.

Chrysaor turned to the crew who had gathered to watch the ordeal and made a show of flexing his muscles as a sign of victory. Anything to garner attention from these people that he needed info from. "Oh yeah, who's the boss? Me, that's right. Mess with the best, lose like the rest."

His short victory speech was interrupted by the sound of heavy coughing behind him. Chrysaor turned to meet the sight of Hwang slowly standing from his pile of broken wood, coughing up blood and clutching his stomach as he did so.

Chrysaor couldn't help but feel a touch of agitation. "Seriously? Are you one of those men who don't know when to quit? I hate those kinds of people. A lot of good people… die that way…"

Drifting off into an old memory, Chrysaor hardly heard Hwang's response. "True. But… a great many more people die… unfulfilled because… they did know when to give up… I am not one of those people."

Chrysaor pulled himself away from the dark corners of his own mind, stuffing the memory into a little cabinet  
of things he did not wish to remember. "I suppose… that is one way to look at it. And if that is the case, I suppose you still wish to fight?"

"I do."

Chrysaor raised Naegling once more, preparing for another bout with this extraordinary man. "It's a futile effort you know. You can't win against me. Believe it or not, Heaven is literally on my side."

Hwang smiled at his response and wiped some of his own blood off of his chin. "Perhaps, but I find that determination and willpower has done me more good than Heaven ever has. Let me test your might."

Chrysaor smiled in return, even though Hwang could not see it. "Spoken like a true warrior. I will give you the satisfaction of this fight before you lay in bed for a week or two. Prepare yourself!"

Both Hwang and Chrysaor rushed at each other in unison, the two warriors heading for an epic climax to their battle, when they were both blown away from each other by a powerful gust of wind and a young girl's angry voice.

"ENOUGH!"

The powerful wind flung both Chrysaor and Hwang into the barrels and crates that littered the ship, although Chrysaor's heavy weight caused a lot more damage than Hwang's. Chrysaor pushed a chunk of broken wood off of himself, muttering irritably as he did so. He did not appreciate being interrupted in the middle of his bout with Hwang. Someone was going to get the brunt of his anger.

However, his feelings of agitation dissipated as he laid eyes on the perpetrator. Standing on the top deck of the ship, where the navigator would usually be steering, stood two young women. One was a tan, short girl with dark, almost greenish looking hair bound up in twin-tails and a funny pointy hat. It was a comical thing for such a young girl to be wearing. Next to her stood a taller woman who was obviously of the same clan as the crew, who had her light brown hair in a French braid, and was holding a staff nearly as tall as she with a spear-like blade on the end. It was probably similar to a pike, but allowed for more agility and speed than that basic weapon.

The short tan girl remained quiet, but the taller woman, who was obviously the one that had shouted at them, was in no mood for staying quiet.

"You idiots! This ship is made out of wood, not steel! If you keep smashing stuff, we'll be stuck out here making repairs for weeks! That island we just left is too far away to return to, you know!?"

Hwang shook of a few splinters of wood off of him as he stood. "Ah, yes. Forgive me Mi-Na. I have lost my temper in this fight."

Turning to Chrysaor, he bowed. "I forfeit this match. Let us not continue to damage the ship that carries us."

Chrysaor shrugged. "Right. Sounds good to me."

The woman named Mi-Na didn't really have a forgiving air about her as she replied to Hwang's apology. "Yeah, well if you two are done, we have a lot to discuss." She motioned to the younger girl beside her. "Well, she does, at least."

Hwang nodded. "Very well. I would not wish to deny the Wind Priestess her goals. Let us find a more private place to speak."

* * *

"You expect us to believe that?!"

Chrysaor leaned against one of the wooden walls of the Captain's cabin, doing his best to convince Hwang, Seoung Mi-Na, and Talim that the world was coming to an end. Needless to say, he was not having much success.

Seoung Mi-Na continued. "You actually think we believe that there is going to be some sort of apocalypse that will destroy the world? That's ridiculous!"

Chrysaor shrugged. "It is ridiculous: which is why I'm here to stop it. It would be ridiculously unfair if the world ended in the next few years, don't you think?"

Hwang answered him. "But you have no evidence to prove that this impending doom is real. There are no signs."

Chrysaor pushed himself off of the wall he leaned on and waved his hands dramatically, hoping to put some enthusiasm into his words. "But that's where you are wrong. There are actually many signs that point to the End. But they are not so easily perceived as most things are. You are a sailor yes? Have you not noticed how the seas rage? The fury with which they pound your hull and rock your boat? The torrential rain, even? And have you not noticed, that in the midst of those storms-"

"The winds are still."

Chrysaor turned to Talim, the young dark-skinned girl who was apparently a Wind Priestess and had finished his sentence for him. Her voice had been incredibly soft, as if she was afraid of breaking something with it. Chrysaor continued.

"Exactly. It is unnatural. How can the seas be so wild without any wind? And the earth; it begins to rot, deep down under the surface. The decay that will soon plague this world is growing. It could be months, years, or even decades before you see the full effects of these anomalies, but they are coming, and they signal the End. That is why I am here."

Hwang stroked his chin in thought. "And you say these…anomalies… are being caused by some sort of catalyst? An object here in the world? What is it?"

Chrysaor sighed. "I do not know. Our…er…leaders are not sure what the catalyst is, only that it exists. It is up to me and my comrades to discover its identity."

This caught Seoung Mi-Na's attention. "Comrades? You mean there are more of you?"

Chrysaor nodded in response. "Yes. There are four of us, although we do not work together. We are simply separate vassals with the same mission. Our lords sent each of us to different parts of this world to search for the catalyst."

Seoung Mi-Na frowned. "This is still kinda far-fetched. You mean to tell me that you and some of your buddies are emissaries from God sent here to stop Armageddon? I don't buy it."

Chrysaor raised a finger as he corrected her. "Not God. The Four. There is a difference. They are not gods, merely immortal, as far as time is concerned."

Mi-Na crossed her arms and made a hmph sound." 'Merely immortal.' That seems pretty god-like to me."

Chrysaor shrugged. "Your understanding of the situation is of little importance. The situation itself is what matters."

Mi-Na pointed a finger at Chrysaor accusingly. "Well I don't believe it! I'm not gonna let you leave until you tell us who you really are!"

Chrysaor knew it was a little rude, but he couldn't help but snicker a little. "Not going to _let _me leave? More like you couldn't stop me if I tried. I've no wish to harm you, but you are no match for me should you get testy."

Mi-Na's face flushed with rage. "Oh yeah? Let's take this outside, I'll teach you to watch your mouth!"

Before Chrysaor could respond, Talim stepped between the two quarreling people. "Stop it! We can't fight each other here. Violence is not the way to solve this."

Chrysaor let his anger drain from him as she spoke. Talim was right. How shameful, for a Sentinel to be acting this way. Of course, he had not had the millennium of peace and solitude in Valhalla like the other Sentinels did; his feeling and thoughts were still widely ill-tempered. He backed away from the group of three.

"Yes. Forgive me: I let my anger get the best of me."

Mi-Na said nothing, but her face did have a somewhat apologetic look to it as she crossed her arms. Talim smiled slightly, happy that the dispute had been quieted. She turned to Chrysaor, and spoke.

"I have a way to tell if we can really trust you. If it is alright… would you remove your helmet? So that I may see your eyes?"

Chrysaor fumbled for a moment in response. No one except Eros had seen his face in ten years… He knew that he looked just like he had when he had first entered Valhalla, aging not a thing that happened to Valhalla's residents… But he honestly couldn't even recall what he himself looked like. It had been so long since he had seen a mirror, or even a reflection of himself in the water. He glanced at a mirror that hung on the wall in the Captain's cabin. He wondered what he would like, if he removed his helm and gazed into it. Was he scarred? Handsome? Ugly? Did he have noteworthy features? Blue, green, or brown eyes? He didn't know. He had never thought about it since he had entered Valhalla. And he wasn't sure he wanted to think about it now. He thought carefully before answering Talim's request.

"…Yes. It is… quite alright. Give me a moment."

* * *

Tira sat perched on a high tree branch in one of the many untouched forests that covered the land that was the border of Germany and Poland, slowly making her way to the Asian border. She had spent most of the day walking, killing any unfortunate travelers that she met on the road. They hadn't been very fun prey though. They had just ran away and screamed their heads off, instead of trying to fight or hide or anything. So boring.

She ran her gauntleted finger across the edge of Eiserne Drossel, admiring the sharpness of the ring blade. She really loved its shape. A circle that never ended. Sharp all around on the outside, so that the only safe place from it was inside the circle itself. It fitted so well with her. No one was safe except for the person inside her. Which was just her. And so everyone was in danger when she was around. The fact that she held so many fragile lives in the palm of her hand pleased her greatly.

_Caw!_

Tira's thoughts were interrupted by the cry of one of her ravens descending towards her from above. As it gripped the edge of her ring blade with its talons, she immediately recognized the abnormal streak that ran down the raven's forehead. It was her favorite.

"Oh, Archimedes! You're back! Did you find anything interesting? A town maybe? Or some more merchants to kill?"

_Caw!_

"Aw… OK then. Good job, Archimedes. You can go rest with the others now. They're roosting in that tree over there, I think."

She pointed her unarmored hand at an Oak tree a few yards to her right, where many of her watchers were perched. Archimedes cawed once again, but instead of joining the other ravens, it opted to perch on Tira's shoulders, careful to keep its talons off of her skin.

Tira scratched the top of the bird's head. "Aw, I love you too, Archy! You're my favorite! But don't tell the other guys, 'kay?"

_Caw!_

With that last answer from Archimedes, Tira suddenly turned sullen. Her other side had been quiet most of the day, content with the amount of killing that had been done, but now that it was over, it was rearing its ugly head.

**Why are we still sitting here? This is boring. We should be moving again, not wasting time!**

And so another argument would begin in Tira's own mind, against none other than herself.

_But I'm tired! I don't wanna walk anymore today!_

**Stupid! Nightmare said we had work to do, and we'd better get it done! He's counting on us, remember?**

The jolly Tira smiled for a moment. _Oh yeah… he said he wanted me to get done and come back safely… he's worried about me…_

Her gloomy side was not so warmhearted about it. **That's not important. Soul Edge is the real master anyway, not Nightmare. All we need is Soul Edge and ourselves.**

_And Archimedes!_

…**And Archimedes.**

Tira's jolly side wasn't really convinced that she had to move again now, but her alternate self was irritable and wanted to go for a little while longer. Tira was OK with that, since she would have to cross several more leagues before finding a town where she could get a carriage or some other transportation. If she had to walk all the way to China, she would be a year older and a lot more irritable than usual. So for now, a little more walking wouldn't hurt.

"C'mon, Archy! The rest of you guys too! We can go a little further before it gets dark!"

And so the deranged servant of Soul Edge hopped down from her lofty perch and headed back towards the road, followed by her flock of watchers above, an ominous sign for anyone wise enough to heed it.

* * *

**So again, recommend to others if you can! Please? I would appreciate it.**


	4. Echoes through Time

**Unfortunately, things are progressing rather slowly in the reading department, although that was to be expected. I won't fret over it. Instead, I'll just try and work some self-advertisement: if you like the style this story is written in, then you could always go to my profile to check out similar works. I'm just putting that out there.**

* * *

Chrysaor briefly struggled with his helmet as he attempted to remove it; it had been attached to the neck of his armor for nearly a decade, and it was resisting the force he exerted to disconnect it from the rest of his metal shell. A minor increase in force was all it took to finally detach it, and as he removed the helm from his head and cradled it in his hands, he noted the reactions of the people that he shared this cabin with.

Both Talim and Seoung Mi-Na were blushing, and Hwang looked at him with a cocked eyebrow and a 'not bad' kind of look. He wondered what the reason for their responses was, but more importantly, he was interested in how he himself looked. Turning his head to face the lone mirror in the wooden room, he laid eyes on his own countenance.

At first he was not sure if what he saw was really him. For the last ten years, his face had been nothing more than an invincible metal helm that served as his appearance. Like an automaton, he had forgotten his own identity; a mindless drone that showed no personality or motivation, other than obeying the one above it. But what he saw in the mirror was... a human. A man, not a machine, simply covered by a sturdy and magnificent suit of armor.

He rubbed the side of his face with his gauntlet, testing the cold feeling of the metal against his exposed skin. He watched his reflection copy him in the mirror. A man with chocolate brown hair that halted just above the tips oh his ears imitated him in the reflective glass. The brown bangs he sported covered his forehead and stopped just short of his eyebrows, which framed cobalt-blue eyes that had a serious intensity to them. The man had no scars, nor any distinguishable facial deformity.

This was... him? This was what Chrysaor looked like, under his stalwart helm of enchanted steel? This was the face of Church, a man who had lived a quiet and unassuming life in a quaint little town that had been the home of both he and his family?

Lifting his armored fingers away from the smooth skin of his cheek, Chrysaor mentally reprimanded himself. No, this was not any of those things. This was the face of a Sentinel, one who no longer belonged to this world; one whose existence had a single sole purpose; fulfilling the will of The Four. That was what this was; not a man.

He turned his gaze from the mirror on the wooden wall to the faces of his companions. Seoung Mi-Na was fidgeting nervously with her fingers, and Hwang was smirking at the sight of it. Talim, on the other hand, made a little gesture at Chrysaor and spoke.

"May you please look at me? I need to see your eyes."

Chrysaor made no response, but merely shifted his scrutiny to the short girl, complying with her wishes. She stared into Chrysaor's eyes for many minutes, in something that would have been awkward had not the both of them been indifferent to the situation. Seeing as how this procedure was going to take a good bit of time, Chrysaor devoted it to finding an exact shade to label the girl's eyes.

Hazel was too light of a color, but her eyes were not a very dark brown either; the most accurate description he could currently think of was sepia. After several minutes, the girl tore her gaze away from Chrysaor's and nodded to her two friends. "We can trust him. His intentions are good, and he means us no harm."

Mi-Na humphed. "And you know that just from looking in his eyes? You just wanted an excuse to stare at him, didn't you?"

Talim's face reddened at the thought of it. "N-no, I, I really can tell you know! It's not because of that..."

Hwang, seeing Talim's distress, decided to defend her. "But she, on the other hand, could actually look at him for awhile and not turn away blushing, unlike you, Mi-Na."

The new target of harassment blushed furiously and punched Hwang in the arm. "N-n-no! I wasn't doing anything like that, you liar!"

Chrysaor cocked an eyebrow at the group of friends. He did not understand the reasons for their reactions. "Why do you behave that way when you see me? I don't understand."

Talim looked down at the floor and fidgeted with her fingers as she answered. "Well... you are a very handsome man, Sir Sentinel. We were just surprised, that's all."

Mi-Na, having recovered from her embarrassment, made another jest at this. "Yeah, with the way you sounded, all doom and gloom under that helmet of yours, we thought you were some grizzled old man."

Chrysaor sighed, returning his helm to where it belonged; over his head. He felt exposed without it. "Well then, now that you know you can trust me, I think you will be more sympathetic to my plight. I do not need any help from you beyond the acquisition of names and locations."

Hwang nodded. "Indeed. I'm assuming that you would like to know where we are. For now, we could only tell you that we are near the coast of Europe. We don't know the exact location of course, as all seafaring is done with a rough estimate."

Chrysaor was a little disappointed at this: he needed exact locations if he were to know where to go. "I see. Spare me a moment of silence, if you will."

His three companions made silent agreement, not uttering a sound. Chrysaor took advantage of the quiet to tap into the web of energy that Valhalla nourished. Using it, he could detect faint traces of energy from around this world. Three of them were easily recognizable; his fellow Sentinels, elsewhere on this Earth. Other powers were not so easily distinguished. They came from every direction, but a large majority of them were originating in the east.

Having finished his magical reconnaissance and making his decision, he broke the silence with his comrades by saying, "To the east; what lies there?"

Hwang stroked his chin for a moment in thought. "As long as we haven't had any unplanned turns, to our east should be Asia. Don't tell me you've never heard of it?"

Chrysaor shook his head. "I know of it; and that is where I must go. A great number of anomalous energies flow forth from that place. How long will it take to get there?"

Hwang calculated in his head. "Three weeks, at the very least..."

He was cut off by Mi-Na. "I thought you said you only needed information! We aren't going to ferry you around; can't you fly or something? You have an angel wing, surely it flies, right!?"

Chrysaor sighed and shook his head in dismay. "The wing is purely aesthetic, as far as I can tell. Besides, three weeks is far too much time to waste on travel. I will have to use... other methods... excuse me."

With that, the Sentinel of Lightning exited the cabin, with a call of "Where are you going?" following from the two girls behind him.

As he stepped out on the deck, he turned to face the three who had followed him out of the Captain's Cabin. "Where is the least important part of the ship?"

Mi-Na answered before Hwang could. "Uh, why? What kind of question is that?!"

Chrysaor garnered her annoying question with a very truthful response. "The method of travel I am about to employ will cause damage; that is unavoidable. I'm just asking you were you would prefer to have the ship scorched."

Mi-Na's countenance changed to one of disbelief upon hearing Chrysaor's answer. "Y-you want us to tell you where to damage our own ship?!"

Hwang sighed and pointed towards the prow of the ship. "If you're going to have to break anything, do it over there. It's only for looks anyway."

Mi-Na tried to make an objection, but she was at a loss for words in this whole situation. Talim made a futile attempt to comfort the woman with a pat on the back.

Chrysaor pushed pass the trio of comrades and made his way to the front of the wooden ship that carried him over the frothy waves. Instead of mermaid at the front, there was a giant, mahogany eagle, pointing its beak in the direction that the ship sailed. Chrysaor stepped onto the wooden beam that protruded out from the front of the ship. Even in his heavy armor, he effortlessly balanced on the water saturated wood. He made his way all the out to the very tip before stopping and casting his gaze out to the boundless blue sea. The beautiful sight reminded him of why he was here. This world was in danger. Its people, its beauty, even its very existence, were all in danger of being annihilated. That was why he was here; to save it.

Chrysaor snapped out of his own thoughts, knowing that valuable time was being wasted. He proceeded to gather the immense energy he would need for the method of travel he was about to employ, when the voice of Talim from behind broke his concentration.

"Sir Sentinel? One question before you leave!"

Chrysaor turned to face the petite girl, struggling to contain the stored energy that greatly desired release. "Y...yes?"

"May we have your name? Your real one?"

The question caught Chrysaor off guard. His name was another aspect of his person that had not been shared with anyone but Eros for almost a decade. He had a brief feeling of reluctance at the thought of sharing something personal with these people, but it only lasted for a moment. He was back in the world; he couldn't keep acting like he was in Valhalla, where he could almost always stay in solitude.

"My family name is Church. As for my first... I'd prefer to keep it to myself for now. So then you may just call me Church."

Talim nodded. "I understand."

Chrysaor turned away from the dark-skinned girl and faced the sea once more. But his energy charge was interrupted by Talim once more.

"O-one more thing!"

He turned to face her again. "Yes?"

"If you run into a man named Yun-Seong, tell him that Mi-Na and I are looking for him."

Chrysaor nodded. "I will. I wish you and your friends safe travels."

Finished speaking, Chrysaor continued to charge the required energy for transport without interruption. He didn't know if Hwang and Mi-Na had come to watch him leave alongside Talim, but whether they had or nor held little importance. But if they were watching, then they had probably noticed that the sky above was filling with a peculiar vortex of storm-clouds, with the eye of the strange formation centering over their ship. Chrysaor had never used this method of travel before, so he hoped that the ensuing lightning strike that was about to hit would have relatively low power.

As his ritual neared completion, Chrysaor could feel the concentrated electricity crackling in the air. He looked up at the eye of the storm that centered itself directly above him. A pulsating, flashing blue light was illuminating the clouds, marking the spot where the lightning would originate. He barely had time to finish that train of thought as a blue, super-heated bolt of lightning shot forth from the vortex and streaked towards the armored Sentinel below. It took a split second to reach him, seemingly disintegrating his body, causing a massive sonic wave, and no doubt blasting the prow of the Valiant Gale to pieces.

* * *

"Won't you take more soldiers with you, Princess?"

Hilde Von Krone turned her gaze from the window in the castle hallway to her blonde, wavy-haired lieutenant, Luana. "I won't. If I bring too many troops with me, we won't be able to move with any decent speed. Besides, I wouldn't undermine the Defense Regiment by removing knights I don't really need. Especially with the state that Fath- I mean the king, is in."

Luana scowled at the stubbornness of her commander. "But you're advancing on Ostreihnsburg, where Soul Edge itself is residing! Surely you need more than one platoon for such an assault!"

"I've already made my decision, Lieutenant. And I have no intention of changing it."

Despite Hilde's affirmation on her decision, Luana persisted. "But-!"

"That's enough!"

Luana recoiled from the verbal anger that originated from Hilde's impatience. For a moment she was without words, so Hilde took advantage of it to reiterate her decision.

"I will not weaken Wolfkrone's defenses by robbing it of the soldiers it needs to defend it. I only need a small, elite force to accompany me. The king needs to be protected, in this time of crisis he is currently facing. Trust me, Luana."

But it was obvious her Lieutenant didn't trust her. Not one bit. "Princess...Hilde, please listen to me. Your father, the king... the chances of his health returning are-"

"Stop, Luana. Don't say that."

The interruption did nothing to halt the woman. "The chances are very slim. You are the next heir to the throne, and your time will come all the sooner when your father-!"

"Stop! I don't believe that..."

Luana grabbed Hilde by the shoulders, trying to get her point across. "When your father passes, you will have to lead this country! If you die on a foolish charge against Ostreihnsburg, who will lead us? Because your father can't! Not anymore."

Hilde shook Luana off of her, and turned away from her to walk down the hallway. She had heard enough of this. As she retreated from her confrontation, Luana said nothing. The blond woman merely watched her hurting commander and princess run from her problems at home, and towards conflict elsewhere.

* * *

Again... there it was again.

Zasalamel sat cross-legged on one of the giant gears of his inter-dimensional clock tower, disturbed by strange vibes that echoed through the Memoria Crux. Time was being distorted, by some force more powerful than his own. As far as he knew, he was the only being capable of manipulating time, so these anomalies perturbed him to a great extent. As the clock tolled twelve, Zasalamel looked up at the face and hands of the time counting device. The very existence of such a thing was funny to him. Time could not be counted or measured; days, months, years, centuries... all of those measurements were just humanity's feeble attempts to make sense of something they could not possibly understand.

His train of thought was interrupted as another vibe pulsed through the Memoria Crux. Every time the anomaly made itself known, Zasalamel felt a terrible pain in his skull. He rose to his feet after the second vibe had passed. Even if he did not have an obligation to preserve the timeline, the sheer annoyance of the headache the anomaly caused him was enough to spur him to deal with it. Whoever was tampering with time could have no good intent, and he would eradicate them without mercy. Certain things were not to be meddled with.

Of course, he already had a rough idea of who would dare mess with such a fragile thing; Nightmare was not one to worry about the order of the universe when he used Soul Edge. Still, if Zasalamel was correct, he couldn't confront Nightmare directly; even a being like him was vulnerable to the power of Soul Edge. Instead, he used one of his many useful abilities to locate someone close to him, and he figured that she would do well enough for an interrogation.

* * *

Tira gagged as she picked a piece of bloody flesh out of her hair. "Eww, gross! I don't mind blood and all, but not in my hair! Stupid Polish people!"

The demented servant sat on a chopped log leaning against the wall of a solitary cottage, whose inhabitants she had just slaughtered. The family of Poles had been boring; only the father had offered any real resistance, and all he had done was swing a clumsy axe at her. Although, having been so bored and deciding to test the axe for herself, Tira found that she enjoyed the cleaving power of such a weapon. She would never choose it over Eiserne Drossel, but it was still a unique experience.

Having finished removing the bloody mess from her raven-black hair, Tira withdrew a cloth napkin that she had pilfered from the cottage out of one of her undergarment's many pockets, and proceeded to wipe the gore off of her precious ring blade. She whistled some jolly tune she didn't even recognize as she did so. Poland was a pretty country; she liked it here. Not as much as she liked Germany, but it was still pretty close. Besides it had a lot of colorful birds, which made her happy. Her scattered and disjointed thoughts wandered so far in this direction, that she didn't even notice that dark hole that was seemingly tearing a rift in the air, nor did she see the robed man with the scythe that came forth from it.

The large man was already standing over her, his shadow blocking out the morning sun, before the girl noticed him. She looked up to meet his face, and the man got exactly the reaction he was expecting from her.

"Oh, hi Zassy! Long time, no see! **What do you want?"**

Zasalamel cocked an eyebrow at her. He knew Tira well enough to know that she usually managed to at least finish her thought before shifting personalities. "I think you know why I'm here, Tira."

**"Is it to badger and annoy me? Because that's what you usually do."**

Zasalamel scowled. "I don't have time for games, girl! There is a serious disturbance in time. I know who is responsible for it, and he must be stopped before he finds some way to damage the River and distort the future of the Memoria Crux, lest he-!"

Tira yawned to cut him off. **"You usually bore me too. Get to the point, I've got places to get to."**

Zasalamel's scowl intensified as the girl interrupted him. "Fine. Then I'll make this quick. Where is Nightmare now, and what is he doing?"

**"He's sitting on his throne in Ostreihnsburg, moping around and yelling at everyone; what else would he be doing?"**

"Do you take me for a fool, Tira? You cannot hide the truth from me! I know Nightmare is meddling with my domain somehow. You will tell me how!"

A spark in Tira's purple eyes preceded her shift in personality as she spoke. "Hm... I know! Let's make a deal! You do something for me, and I'll tell you what I know. How's that sound?"

Zasalamel's scowl did not lessen. "It sounds like something ridiculous that I should not go along with. Why should I do anything for you when I can just force the information I need out?"

Tira smirked. "Aw, c'mon Zassy! You wouldn't really hurt a cute little innocent girl like me, would you?" She finished her sentence of with the cutest puppy dog look she could muster.

Unfortunately for Zasalamel, it was very effective. It was ironic how such a monster like Tira could be so deceptively cute when she wanted to be. "I don't know about innocent, but I suppose a favor won't hurt, so long as you aren't asking for something ludicrous."

Tira cocked an eyebrow at him. "Ludicrous? Like what?"

Zasalamel actually grinned for a moment before answering. "Like asking for me to find you a lover; I don't think I could even scare someone into falling for you."

He had meant it as a joke, but Tira actually looked hurt by the comment. She even teared up just a little bit. "T-that's mean... you didn't have to say that. **Now you definitely have to do me a favor! And I shouldn't tell you anything after you're done, you stupid jerk!"**

Zasalamel sighed. "Calm down Tira, I meant no harm by it. Besides, if you wanted a husband, you'd have to give up your hobby. No more killing for good girl wives, you know?"

Tira briefly speculated on this. "Hmm...yeah, I guess that's true. That kind of life sounds boring. Killing is way more fun!"

The manic girl loosed a giggle as she finished her exclamation. Zasalamel wondered what truly went on behind her violet eyes, but the mere thought of the mania and dementia that ruled in her mind scared even him. It was something he did not wish to dwell on.

"So, Tira; what do you wish of me?"

The girl ceased her giggling to look at the man who guarded time. "Well... I need you to take me somewhere..."

* * *

**Well it's been awhile, but I hope this update will garner some more readers. Feel free to comment, but keep negativity to constructive criticism.  
**


	5. Crossing the Line

**OK, so I was asked if bonus SC characters would be in the fic. To be totally honest, characters like Darth Vader aren't going to be there. As for guys like Ezio and Link, it's debatable. Ezio may fit into it, as I'm not sure what time period he lived in, and if Link shows up, I'll have to change his back-story to fit into the elves with Scherazade. Anyway, this chapter is kind of short, but I really need to catch up on all of my stories, so I couldn't spend too much time on this.**

* * *

"I don't understand why he would be so foolish! What could Maxi be thinking?"

Xianghua sat cross-legged on the cobblestone wall that lined the beaten dirt path she and Kilik were traveling on. "Well I guess he's thinking he'll do anything to take down Astaroth. You know he hates that giant more than anything Kilik. If anything, we were the foolish ones for thinking we could stop Maxi from trying to get his revenge. Either way, there's nothing we can do."

Kilik frowned. "But did you not hear his plans, Xianghua? He wants to use Soul Edge to defeat Astaroth! Such a power can't be wielded so easily; especially if revenge is the only motive one has for using such a weapon!"

Xianghua stood fro her seat and placed her hands on her hips. "Well what do you want to do, Kilik? If we try to stop him again, it'll come down to blows! Do you really want to fight him? He's your friend!"

Kilik crossed his arms. "Well he is a friend that has chosen the wrong path! We can't just let him run loose like this!" At that, Kilik sighed. "If only Xianglian were here... she would know what to do..."

Xianghua frowned and looked away from her companion and crush. She didn't like it when he brought up Xianglian: although she knew the girl had been important to him, he spent too much time thinking about her, and not enough about Xianghua. At least, she thought of it that way.

The ensuing silence from their little altercation left the both of them awkwardly facing each other. Neither of them knew what to say. However, it would soon be clear that they wouldn't have to. Although neither of the two noticed it at first, it soon became obvious that the sky was growing ominously dark. Still not uttering a word, both Kilik and Xianghua looked up at the rapidly transforming sky, taking special notice of a peculiar vortex the storm-clouds were forming.

"Kilik, is this... normal?"

The staff-wielding monk shook his head. "I have never seen anything like it. Xianghua, perhaps we should find some cover; this storm looks more dangerous than most."

Xianghua nodded, and they both retreated to the edge of the forest, taking cover under the trees there. They had just reached the cover of the canopy when an ear-splitting explosion and a flash of blinding light emitted from the sky behind them. A split-second later, debris was flying everywhere. Kilik shoved Xianghua to the ground in an attempt to protect her from any dangerous flying objects. After a few seconds of lying on the ground, Kilik decided that the danger was over, and rose to his knees to look back at the carnage that had been wrought. What awaited his eyes was quite a sight.

Rising out of a massive crater in the ground was the figure of a person, still cloaked in smoke from the smoldering hole around him. However, even his silhouette was enough to distinguish it as something other than human. The head of the figure was a curved triangular thing, that could roughly be associated as a western dragon or some such. The creature had talon like fingers, or equally claw-like nails, as well as a strange wing protruding from its hip.

"Xianghua, stay here."

Fascinated, yet wary, Kilik proceeded to investigate with Kali-Yuga at the ready. He advanced slowly, and after coming within a few feet of the creature, which was know twisting and turning in a stretching like fashion, called out to it. "You there! Show yourself, or prove you are not an enemy!"

A few seconds of silence followed, and instead of answering, the mysterious figure moved slowly towards him, until it exited the veil of smoke around it, and revealed its true form. Kilik quickly recognized the figure of a person, not a monster. The dragon head was merely a fancy helmet, the claws were just gauntlets with curved tips, and the wing was a fauld that wrapped around the figure's right hip.

The two of them stared at each other in silence. Well, Kilik assumed that the figure was staring at him, despite the fact that he could not see its eyes behind its helmet. After a few moments of silence, the armored figure finally spoke.

"English?"

Kilik recognized this word with dread. Yes, he knew what English was, but no, he couldn't speak it. Being raised at the Ling-Sheng Su monastery, Kilik was only fluent in Chinese. Kilik shook his head to convey that he could not speak English, and the armored figure sighed. Seeing that the two of them were at an impasse, they both stood in silence as they tried to think of ways to communicate.

Fortunately, Xianghua decided to join Kilik in investigating their new visitor, despite Kilik's wish for her to stay back. "I'm sorry, did you ask for English? I'm fluent in that language."

The armored figure cocked his head at Xianghua in surprise. "Oh? How come you speak English but your friend doesn't?"

Xianghua bowed, as was the customary greeting to strangers. "I used to serve on the Chinese border guard. We were required to learn other languages, in case foreigners were ever passing through."

The armored figure, whose voice had been distinctly male, looked from side to side to examine his surroundings. "Chinese? Is that where I am now? Quite a large jump..."

Xianghua raised an eyebrow in confusion at his remark. "Jump? You... jumped here? From where?"

The strange man responded in a very reserved tone. "Forgive my lack of clarity. Jump was not an appropriate word to describe my methods of travel. Still, it is not important. Am I currently standing in the lands of China? Learning my location is of utmost importance right now."

Xianghua nodded, still befuddled about the man's "methods of travel". "Yes, you are within China's lands, just on the border between us and Tibet."

The armored man crossed his arms. "I see... and what year is it? What Dynasty is currently ruling?"

His strange questions confused Xianghua to no small extent, and if Kilik was capable of understanding the questions being asked, he'd be confused as well.

"It is the year 1590, and the Ming Dynasty is still in power, as they have been since 1368. May I ask where you are from, sir? Forgive me for my rudeness, but your questions are quite... strange."

The stranger chuckled. "I suppose they are. However, I have been withdrawn from the affairs of the world for quite some time; it is good to see that the Ming Dynasty is still standing, despite the festering hatred towards them."

This whole conversation was very unusual. Xianghua took a brief moment to translate the conversation to Kilik; paraphrased, of course.

"He doesn't seem like an enemy, but he keeps asking questions with obvious answers, like the year and place and the ruling dynasty. He also mentioned that he jumped here or something. I don't know what he means, though..."

Kilik looked between the stranger and Xianghua, wondering if she had translated everything correctly. The armored stranger merely looked on in silence, since he couldn't understand Xianghua's Chinese dialogue with Kilik. Kilik motioned at the crater the three of them were standing in front of.

"Ask him what that was all about."

Xianghua nodded and turned to face the strange being once again. "What was that explosion? And why were you in it?"

The stranger shrugged. "These are things you do not need to know. Higher powers than you know are at work here, and they do not wish to be brought within the realm of mortal knowledge. Therefore, your questions must remain unanswered."

"But-!"

The armored man held up a hand to silence the Chinese woman. "No. I will not grant your question with an answer. Now if that is settled," he said while pointing to the east, " what is in that general direction?"

Xianghua crossed her arms. "It seems pretty rude to ask a question yet refuse to answer ours."

The armored man quieted, without an answer for the moment. Xianghua smirked in triumph. "Now, if you want any more answers out of us, then you'll have to-"

"Never mind."

"Huh?"

The armored figure turned to face east, back towards the Chinese center land. "I do not require an answer from you. In those moments of silence, I have already determined the direction of my destination. I bid you farewell, and safe travels."

With that, the mysterious stranger began to walk along the road that would take him away from Tibet and into China, with a brief wave of dismissal as his only goodbye. Xianghua started after him.

"H-hold on a minute! We-"

Xianghua's objection was halted by a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face Kilik, who was shaking his head. "Forget about it, Xianghua. He's not important, and we need to get after Maxi, before he hurts himself."

Xianghua sighed, knowing that Kilik was right; her intrigue in the unknown metal man was not as important as stopping Maxi from getting his hands on Soul Edge. It was up to she and Kilik to seal away the Swords, and they didn't have time to waste on peculiar strangers.

* * *

Tira hopped out of the weird limbo dimension Zasalamel had used to ferry her across the world, followed by her flock of ravens, (which she had demanded that Zasalamel let accompany her) and she had barely plopped down to a rough plateau when Zasalael floated down to the ground beside her.

The demented girl took a brief moment to dust off her scarlet leggings, before taking a look at her surroundings. A quick analysis of the land around her showed that it was not where she needed to be.

"Hey! This doesn't look like a monastery to me! It's just a bunch of mountains and stuff! This isn't what I said, Zassy!"

Zasalamel crossed his arms, with his scythe cradled in the nook of his elbow. "I am aware of what you said, Tira. However, I am also aware that you are not to be trusted."

Tira feigned injured feelings. "Ouch, that's not very nice, Zassy..."

Zasalamel spread his arms and motioned at the Himalayan mountains surrounding the two. "As you can see, you are stranded in the center of an unknown mountain range. Until you tell me what you know, I will not take you from this place, and should I abandon you, I doubt you'll survive the cold trek to the bottom, especially in the tramp clothes you're wearing."

Tira scowled. "Who are you calling a tramp, you half-blind moron! I'm still a virgin you know!"

Zasalamel couldn't resist the opportunity to make another joke at Tira's expense. "And you will probably be one for the rest of your life, but that's beside the point."

The seventeen year old girl, who apparently still had fantasies about love, pointed a gauntleted finger at him in rage. "That's not true! I bet someone will have the hots for me eventually! Just because you haven't gotten any in a thousand years or something doesn't mean you have to take it out on me!"

The Watcher of Time chuckled. If one didn't look beyond Tira's seemingly normal and cute exterior, they could actually have some sort of feeling for the girl. However, one look into the deranged mind and shattered personality that she was a victim to would turn any possible suitors away. Besides, Tira's love for killing would be a very serious issue if it ever came to light with a common person; and if they accidentally hurt her feelings, she could very well kill them too.

"Well, point is, you're stuck here until you answer my questions about Nightmare. Or you can stay up here and freeze. It's your choice."

Zasalamel could've sworn he heard the girl growl at him. "You jerk... **we had a deal!"**

"Well the terms of the deal have changed. Tell me what you know, or I'm leaving you here."

Tira scowled. **"Stupid liar... I should've known better."**

"If you're done complaining, I'm still waiting for an explanation."

Tira scracthed the back of her head. "Well, uh... I don't really know... anything, Zassy."

Zasalamel sighed. "I'm not going to be deceived that easily. Tell me the truth."

Tira stomped her foot on the ground like an angry child. "I am! I don't know anything, Zassy, honest!"

These obvious lies angered Zasalamel, and he wasn't going to endure them. If Tira wouldn't tell him the truth, he would find out himself. He took the two steps forward that were necessary to place his hand on Tira's forehead, and within seconds her memories were flowing from her mind to his.

His plan was to go back chronologically until he reached the information he needed, but this plan was soon trumped. The thoughts from Tira's conscious was nothing but pure chaos. Nothing was in order, nothing was clearly defined, and everything, past, present, and future, was jumbled up on top of each other.

Disjointed memories and thoughts cascaded into Zasalamel's mind, and not a one of them was his own. He saw brief flashes of things that he knew nothing of; a murder in the streets, a home burning to the ground, a broken bird in the the palms of a girl... none of these memories were his own, and they pounded his mind with great intensity.

Hundreds of cuts and gashes from the years of training with Eiserne Drossel, a middle-aged woman with a loving smile... that same woman, bloody and maimed, her blood on a crying apprentice's fingers...

Zasalamel tried to break the mental contact between he and Tira, but the link was not responding, and he couldn't move, as his mind was too enraptured by the memories of this broken and twisted girl.

A strangled child, a dead father, and a crying mother, one after another, followed by the smiling face of that woman again. "I love you, Engel."

Finally gathering the willpower to fracture the link between the two of them, Zasalamel pulled back from Tira, both physically and mentally. Both of them stumbled backwards from each other, but whereas the Time Guardian recovered quickly, Tira fell to her knees and cradled her head as tears streamed down her face.

Zasalamel eyed the girl with a modicum of pity; she had lived a hard and arduous life, even before she had been psychologically split in two by the Spirit Swords. However, he knew this was her fate, and therefore did not feel that Tira deserved any more or less than what she was meant to receive. This was Zasalamel's opinion on all humans.

Seeing that Tira had at least stopped crying, and was sufficiently calm to some degree, he began to speak. "Tira, now that-"

**"Shut up."**

Cut off by the menacing tone Tira used, Zasalamel silenced himself, and met Tira's violet gaze, filled with malice and hatred.

**"If you ever do that to me again... I'll murder you. I'll tear you into a thousand little pieces and feed you to the crows. Those memories... are meant only for me!" **

Zasalamel noticed Tira's Watchers circling around her like a black tornado, as if they were a symbol of both her angst and her anger. He sighed.

"Fine. I see that I have crossed the line. I'll take you to the Monastery without any further delay."

The ravens settled onto the ground around Tira's kneeling body as she answered in a tormented voice. "No. I...I wanna stay here for a little bit. I need... some alone time."

Zasalamel actually felt kind of guilty for making the usually care-free twerp like this. Still, such a thing was an uncommon emotion for him, and he dispelled it without much effort. But seeing as he was the cause of her misery, Zasalamel thought he could at least agree with her wish for temporary solitude.

"I'll come back in an hour. Be ready by then."

With that, the Guardian of Time opened another gate to the Memoria Crux behind him, and entered into the cracks between reality, leaving Tira to dwell on her past.

* * *

**Well, that's that. I'll try not to take so long next time, but school has gotten really hectic lately, and I've also been assisting a friend in the writing of an original story so...yeah.**

**Tell me, would anyone like romantic pairings between SC characters as side plots during the story? I'm a pretty damn good romance writer, (And if you don't believe me, read Call of Destiny) so I could definitely do that.**


	6. The Start of Something Beautiful

**Wow, I _really _appreciate all of the feedback! I'm assuming that this is mostly thanks to Link-the-Lightbringer, for his recommendations, and for that I thank him. (Or you, rather, since I guess you'll also be reading this). Anyway, just a few quick questions; do any of you readers have issues with me bending canon just a little in certain ways? (Ex. Like Tira actually knowing where she's from? I know canonically her birthplace is unknown, but I thought of a good derivative from her birthplace being clearly defined, so...) And also, besides Zasalamel, are there any other characters in the Soul Series that can teleport long distances? Like Spawn or something? I need to know this for later.**

* * *

Chrysaor hopped off of the stony ledge he stood on just as it crumbled, and he reached his arms forward to grab onto a similar one above. He sighed, and for the twenty-seventh time wished his angel wing actually gave him flying capabilities. Such a thing would have been very useful for climbing this stupid mountain.

The Sentinel wondered what could be at the summit, as that was where he was detecting traces of an unknown power. Over the past week, Chrysaor had toured mainland China, moving ever closer to his goal as he skirted towns and cities to avoid conflict. He had been eager to reach his destination, but after he had determined that it was on top of a mountain, his zealousness had rapidly dissipated.

On the bright side, he was about halfway up; and since he tired much more slowly than an average human, he still had plenty of energy for making the rest of the climb. He had contemplated using his Lightning Stream to jump to the summit as he had from the Valiant Gale, but he had decided against it; that method of travel required too much energy and was not precise in any way, shape, or form. And so he struggled to stretch himself up to the next outcropping of stone, praying that whatever was at the top of this treacherous climb was worth it.

* * *

Olcadan sat perched on a rock in his temporary cave like the giant bird he seemed to be, meditating on how he would best his rival, Edge Master, in their next duel. That old geezer was the only one who had ever fought him to a draw, and Olcadan would have his revenge, for his reputation as this era's greatest warrior! If he was capable of doing so with that beak of his, he would've smiled.

But for now, he did not know where Edge Master was. So he was waiting on the mountain that housed the remnants of the Ling-Sheng Su monastery, since that was the only place Edge Master was likely to be nearby. Therefore, Olcadan waited in a cave that was just a few hundred feet above the ruins of the monastery, listening for the sound of his bitter rival with abnormally sharp ears...

And finally, he did hear something. Two somethings, actually. But neither belonged to Edge Master. One was incredibly light footsteps, like a ballerina tiptoeing over soft grass. The other was not so quiet, and sounded like a methodical thumping of someone banging against the side of the mountain. Although neither of these things was of particular interest to Olcadan, he was very bored, and therefore decided to investigate this disturbance.

* * *

"Are you leaving again, Father?"

Raphael looked back at the sorrowful face of his daughter as Auguste, Marienbard, and Jacqueline readied his things for the traveling ahead. He would soon be departing his castle in Wallachia, to set out and find Soul Calibur, so that he could create the perfect world for his beloved foster daughter, Amy.

"Do not fret so," the Frenchman said as he placed his finger under Amy's chin. "I'll be back very soon, and then we'll create a perfect world for just the two of us."

If either Marienbard or her two fellow servants had been paying attention to "just the two of us", they would have been worried. However, they were too busy getting ready, lest they incur their master's wrath.

Despite Raphael's reassuring words, Amy frowned dejectedly. "You're leaving me alone, Father. Again."

That last word cut into Raphael's heart. It was true; he had already left Amy alone once before, on a very similar quest for Soul Edge. And his foolishness had malfested both himself and his beloved daughter. But that was why he had to go. He had to acquire the Spirit Sword for himself, so that he could remake the world as a place that would accept Amy. He couldn't bear to see her suffer from such loneliness anymore. And for that sake, he would abandon her; temporarily, of course.

"I know. And I'm sorry, Amy. But I'll be back, and then I'll never leave your side again."

Amy looked at her foster father with doubting eyes, but before either of them could say anything, Marienbard cut into their conversation.

"Master Raphael-!"

"What?! You fool, can't you see that I'm in the middle of something!?"

Marienbard bowed and muttered a quick apology. "I-I'm sorry, Master Raphael, but you told us to tell you when the preparations where complete..."

Raphael scowled, caught contradicting himself with a previous command. "Well then, complete your preparations at a more tactful time! Take our things outside, I'll be there in a minute!"

His three servants rushed to gather the needed supplies, yet somehow, Auguste ended up carrying fifty percent of the luggage.

Turning his crimson eyes away from the three bumbling oafs, Raphael faced his daughter; but it was obvious that she no longer wished to talk. Amy turned away from him, and left for her room at the top of one of the castle's many spiral staircases. Raphael watched her bobbing pigtails silently as she went, and knew that that last conversation was indeed the last one to be had before he departed on his quest.

* * *

Finally wrapping his fingers around the last ledge before reaching his goal, Chrysaor effortlessly pulled himself up and over the obstacle. He took a moment to relax after that strenuous climb; even though he tired more slowly than normal, he had just climbed a rather large mountain, and it still had some effect on him. However, a few moments of rest was enough to ease his fatigue, and he rose to his feet to observe his surroundings.

Before him was the desolate ruins of some sort of temple. A few skeletons were littered about the area, half buried under stone or dirt. What parts of the ruins were wooden were rotted and covered in mold, and several rocks were likewise covered in moss. Several shattered pillars stood around the ruins in a pattern that was difficult to discern without the pillars being whole.

This was the place that housed the evil energy Chrysaor had been directed to? Sure, the place was eerie, but it didn't seem... evil. The Sentinel of Lightning decided to investigate further, and he began walking towards what was left of the temple's main building. He was about halfway there when he sensed something... sinister.

Chrysaor stopped in his tracks, and stayed completely silent as he listened for anything that would signal imminent danger. Within a few moments, the absolute silence was interrupted by the barely audible sound of footsteps on wood, and it was coming from almost directly above him.

Reacting quickly, Chrysaor pointed his finger at the source of the sound on the wooden scaffolding above, and shot a light zap of electricity towards it. The lightning spark impacted the scaffolding with relatively low power, but the rotted wood crackled and ignited when it hit.

The tiny explosion and ensuing fire startled whoever had been hiding up there, and they fell off the scaffolding and to the ground on the other side of a pile of rubble with a thud. Strangely, a cluster of ravens also scattered from the fire that was consuming the scaffolding they had been resting on.

"Owwie!"

Chrysaor cocked an eyebrow upon hearing the light, perky voice that uttered a tiny cry of pain. It sounded like a young girl, but Chrysaor couldn't think of any reason for anyone being up here. The armored Sentinel calmly walked over to the rubble that obscured this stranger, and lay eyes on her, as it was definitely a girl, when he stood on top of the stony debris.

Before him was... a very interesting girl. She had raven black hair bound up in twin-tails, violet eyes, and wore a strange scarlet outfit that bared her midriff, thighs, and chest. A collar of green feathers rested around her neck, she sported claw gauntlets, and carried some sort of chakram-like weapon. The peculiar girl sat rubbing the back of her head, where Chrysaor assumed she had whacked it when she fell. Despite his serious demeanor, Chrysaor couldn't help but be smitten with how cute this girl was. She seemed to be completely ignorant to his presence as she cradled her head in her hands.

"Ow...stupid! Random fire and explosions... what the heck?"

Once she was done complaining to herself about her situation, she finally noticed the armored figure that stood before her. Her uniquely colored eyes widened in surprise as she realized her failed attempt at stealth.

"Uh oh... you weren't supposed to see me..."

Chrysaor cocked his head at the girl. "Oh really? And why is that?"

The girl fidgeted with her fingers as she fumbled for a response. "Uh... well, um... Nightmare said..."

Chrysaor had never heard of that before. "Nightmare said? What's a Nightmare? Is it a person?"

The stranger before him blanched as she realized that she was giving away valuable information. She panicked for a moment, but then smirked confidently as she reached for her weapon. "You know what? Never mind! **I'll just kill you here and get it over with!"**

With that, the girl leaped towards Chrysaor and swung her ring blade at his head viciously. The Sentinel ducked just in time, avoiding the blow, but his opponent twisted in midair and slashed her weapon across his back instead. The glancing blow failed to penetrate, and Chrysaor turned to face the girl as she nimbly landed on her toes. She was quite agile.

Chrysaor withdrew Naegling from its sheath, but the dusk of the day coupled with the gray stone around him caused the blade to lack any real luster; it was instead a dull gray with a slight metallic sheen. His adversary looked at Chrysaor irritably, angry over the lack of damage caused to her target. Chrysaor hopped down from his rocky perch to face the girl.

"I'll forgive you for that if you stop now. I want to talk."

The girl laughed maniacally. "Yeah, well, I want to see you in pieces!"

She dashed forward again, spinning her weapon around her body with flair. Chrysaor blocked the attack with ease, but it was soon followed up with several more blows as the girl whipped her weapon around her waist and arms like a hula-hoop. Chrysaor managed to deflect or dodge most of the blows, but a few of them scratched against his armor, and he realized that he was dealing with a skilled opponent.

Chrysaor wanted to go on the offense, but he was afraid to injure his opponent, who wore almost no armor. He needed her alive and conscious if he was going to question her. Still, as the girl swung her weapon overhead and caught Chrysaor in the middle of the circle, it was obvious that offense would be necessary sooner or later. She dropped her weapon down to his ankles, and flicked it upwards, flipping the Sentinel upwards and upside down. He landed on his back with a crack of metal on stone.

The girl giggled, and Chrysaor angrily swiped at her feet with his leg, hard enough to twirl his opponent completely upside down so that she would have landed on her head. Would have. Instead, she saved herself from the painful landing by sticking her arms out and catching the full weight of her body in a handstand like fashion. Having done that, she back-flipped away from Chrysaor and returned to her feet a yard or two away.

Chrysaor rose to his feet, muttering angrily to himself before saying, "Awfully lithe, aren't you?"

The girl smiled slyly, apparently pleased with that remark. "Aw, thank you! But flattery won't get you anywhere metal-man!"

She placed her unique weapon over her sleek shoulders and began to ramble. "Besides, do you have any idea how loooong it took me to look like this? Being beautiful isn't easy, you know! I mean-"

Chrysaor curtailed her little monologue before the girl became too engrossed with it. "Yeah, I really don't care. I mean, yeah, sure you're pretty attractive, but-!"

**"How dare you interrupt me! I was in the middle of something!" **Chrysaor ducked under a wild swing at his head as his adversary ran towards him again. He noticed that the attack had been much more sloppy and inaccurate than the girl's previous ones, and a new plan formed in Chrysaor's head.

"Pfft, was that your best? Well, I guess it must be hard to hit me with those gangly arms of yours."

**"What did you say!? You wretch, I'll kill you!"**

She swung her weapon at his feet this time, but it was poorly timed and Chrysaor easily hopped over the attack and leaped away from his opponent. Temporarily at a safe distance, he continued to falsely malign the girl.

"And you hair is totally lopsided. Do you realize how much of dork you look like?"

**"You-! Shut up and die already!"**

Chrysaor easily dodged another flurry of sloppy attacks, many of which left his target open for counter-attack. Still, he waited until he had an opportunity for one, incapacitating strike.

"And what's with your outfit? It's so garish, it looks like you came out of a circus!"

**"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"**

Making a large, powerful, yet clumsy overhead swing, the girl vied to punish Chrysaor for his insolent slander. Finally, the Sentinel found the opening he needed. He sidestepped the attack with inhuman speed, and before his attacker could even finish her current move, he slammed his elbow into the small of her back, causing her to flinch and arch her body in a painfully wrong way. A stifled cry was all she could utter as the scarlet-clad girl fell towards the ground. Chrysaor made sure to catch her limp body before she collapsed though.

A quick check over the girl's condition showed that she was unconscious; and that Chrysaor had, fortunately, not broken the young girl's spine. He had been very careful in gauging the strength of his blow, but he felt that he had still unintentionally applied more force than was necessary.

As he rose from the fallen warrior's body, Chrysaor was surprised to find his eyes lingering on her. Strange feelings welled up inside him that he had not felt for many years. He thought this girl was attractive. Nothing foreign to a grown man like himself, but in Valhalla, he had not experienced such things. The Sentinel shook his armored head as he recalled the rampancy with which this girl attacked him just moments ago, not to mention the seeming instability of her mind. Cute or not, those two flaws, and they were very big flaws, were quite... discouraging.

Finally done expelling frivolous thoughts from his mind, Chrysaor wondered if he would have time to finish investigating the temple before the girl woke up. Of course, he doubted she would be able to move very much, if at all, when she awoke, but he would need to determine the extent of her internal injuries as soon as possible, and to do that, he'd have to ask her.

Debating over this little dilemma, Chrysaor was briefly distracted, and therefore oblivious, to the sound of feet approaching from behind him. When he finally noticed them, they were already within dangerous proximity. Chrysaor whirled around with Naegling at the ready to face... an owl. Or more precisely an owl's head. On a shirtless man's body.

"...What?"

That was all Chrysaor could say as he analyzed this... creature. After finding words to actually utter, he said, "What... is it?"

Surprisingly, the hybrid thing answered him. "I am not an it! I am Olcadan!"

Chrysaor cocked an eyebrow, despite the fact that such an action was hidden behind his helm. "What's an Olcadan? I've never heard of that species before."

The half-human, half-owl creature clenched its human fists. "I am not an animal, you fool! I said I am Olcadan, not I am _an _Olcadan! Learn the subtleties of your own language!"

Chrysaor frowned, wondering if he was hallucinating. After all, he was talking to a man with an owl's head. Surely that was not normal.

"So if you don't mind me asking Mr... uh... Olcadan. What... are you?"

The owl's head was not capable of showing facial expressions as Chrysaor understood them, but the tone of his voice was well enough to discern arrogance among it.

"What am I, you ask? Have you no shame!? I am Olcadan, strongest, most skillful, and most devilishly good-looking warrior of this era! And yet you claim to not know me?! Surely you jest!"

Chrysaor scoffed upon hearing,"most devilishly good-looking". Eros' Sentinel was sure that the whole owl head thing was a pretty big turn-off for the ladies. As if the creature had mentally heard Chrysaor's disbelief in his claims, it drew a staff from who-knows-where and pointed a finger at Chrysaor accusingly.

"You fool! How dare you mock me! I will teach you the error of your ways! Now we fight!"

Chrysaor thought that the thing was joking, but when he was forced to barely dodge a horizontal strike at his head, he realized this was untrue. Not really looking for another fight, he somersaulted away from his assailant, but when he turned to face the owl creature again, it was already in his face. He/it/whatever it was was surprisingly fast. And he swung his quarterstaff with great speed and precision. Before Chrysaor realized just how fast his opponent was, he had been whacked along the head and torso six times.

Realizing the crazy difference in speed in the girl and this man, Chrysaor adjusted the speed of his own reflexes to match his opponent's. His enemy did not have such an easy time landing hits after that. Sure, he still knocked Chrysaor on the shin or forearm every once in awhile, but for the most part, the owl-man's attacks were deflected by Chrysaor's equal speed.

Once Chrysaor had finally found an opening for counter-attack, he jabbed his arm forward at lightning speed, only to be evaded and countered himself. His enemy jumped over Chrysaor's head, ran up his back, and launched his staff like a missile, smashing into Chrysaor's back in a similar fashion as he had done to the girl that had been his previous opponent.

The difference in damage was much greater though. Whereas the girl had been incapacitated immediately, Chrysaor merely shot a veiled glare at his opponent. The two of them took a few steps forward to reach each other, and they battled once more.

* * *

Kalnypolok and Kalnypalk, two of the few surviving priests of Fygul Cestemus, looked upon their creation with delight.

Kalnypolok commented on the nature of the creation. "A perfect soldier... without a soul, it will undoubtedly complete its mission without fail!"

Kalnypalk nodded. "Indeed. With this, Astaroth's core will be retrieved in no time. We finally have the perfect tool to wipe that abomination from the earth."

"But what shall we call it?"

"A good question, my friend. Although it makes little difference..."

Both of the priests fell into silence as they contemplated a name for their creation; the perfect warrior to retrieve Astaroth's core.

Kalnypalk started, "Why not Ashlotte-"

And Kalnypolok finished for him. "Maedel?"

Both priests nodded in agreement, and Kalnypolok rubbed his bearded chin in thought as he focused his eyes on the iron maiden before him, whose sole purpose was to destroy Astaroth and retrieve his core. "Ashlotte Maedel... hmm... a good name... a good name indeed."

* * *

Chrysaor was knocked to the ground for the third time in his hour long battle with Olcadan.

"You have speed and power, but your skills leave much to be desired! You have yet to touch me!"

Chrysaor noted this fact with frustration. While he was virtually unharmed physically, he was greatly fatigued, and he was being defeated by some stupid owl thing. Rising to his feet again, Chrysaor swung his blade in a flurry of slashes and hacks, all of which were negated by his adversary.

"Ho ho, you lack rudimentary training! How shameful!"

Chrysaor, wary of his enemy's taunts, was careful not to fall into the same trap the scarlet-clad girl had when he fought her. He would not be goaded into reckless action. However, less than a few minutes later, Chrysaor found himself on the ground again, with Olcadan readying himself for a painful looking move.

"Prepare yourself for the wrath of the Heaven Monument!"

Olcadan twirled around his staff and stopped with a handstand on top of it, while Chrysaor gathered electrical energy around himself. As Olcadan leaped off the top of his stuff and swung it at his opponent, Chrysaor took all of his gathered energy and launched it outwards in a repulse of sorts.

"ENOUGH!"

The blast of electricity sent Olcadan flying several yards away, and the owl-man landed with a thud on his rump. However, minus a few singed feathers, he seemed unharmed. Chrysaor wrapped himself in more streams of electric energy, knowing that if he so wished, he could blast this whole temple to smithereens, and his skills compared to this owl thing's would be a moot point.

However, Olcadan rose to his feet and chortled, seemingly depositing his weapon into thin air. "Oh my, such power! Have I angered you?"

Chrysaor did not deign that question with a response, and Olcadan continued. "With training, you could be a very powerful warrior... but for now, you are not worthy of battle with me."

Chrysaor was about to make a retort about the extent of his awesome powers, but a strangled cry of agony from behind him kept him from doing so. He turned to face the girl he had dispatched earlier, regaining consciousness and struggling to rise to her feet. Chrysaor would get to her in a moment. He turned to face Olcadan once more, but when he did, the bird creature was gone.

Both disappointed and relieved, Chrysaor turned his attention back to the girl on the ground who was writhing in pain. He walked the few yards necessary to reach her and knelt down over her body. Her violet eyes were squeezed shut in pain, and she apparently didn't notice his presence.

"Tell me where it hurts."

Finally aware of the Sentinel above her, the girl glared at him balefully, but said nothing.

Chrysaor cocked his head to the side. "Do you like this pain?"

The girl grimaced as she struggled to answer. "N...no..."

"Then tell me where it hurts."

After a few moments of deliberation, she answered churlishly, **"It hurts... where you hit me... dumbass."**

Chrysaor sighed. As if he couldn't have figured that out himself. Running his hands along the slim girl's spine, he quickly located the dislocated vertebrae in her lower back. "This is gonna hurt. Don't bite down on your tongue or anything."

Before the girl could respond, Chrysaor popped the bone in question back into its place, followed by an agonizing scream from the girl he was treating.

"Ahh! Ow! What... what... the hell?"

The violet eyed girl bit down on her armored gauntlet as her violet eyes welled up with tears. Chrysaor waited for her to finish letting out her pain before questioning her condition. "Better now?"

"I still can't...move..."

"But does it hurt less?"

The girl nodded bitterly. "Y-yeah..."

Chrysaor nodded as well, and rose to his feet. "Good. Then I guess we'd better get going."

"We?"

"You and me makes we. Two people, not one."

The raven haired girl glared at him. **"What makes you think that I'd go anywhere with you?!"**

Chrysaor shrugged. "Nothing, I guess. But I would assume that it would get pretty cold up here at night, and it's already evening. You can hardly move at all, and you'll probably freeze if I leave you."

A look of defeat crossed the girl's face as she realized the truth of his words. **"Grr... fine. But just wait until I can move again! I'll cut your heart out!"**

Chrysaor crossed his arms. "Yeah, sure, sure... anyway, I'll carry you on my back, alright?"

The girl looked at his metal armor with disdain. "That looks uncomfortable. It's all hard and pointy and stuff! No way!"

Chrysaor sighed, and for the first time in ten years, prepared to remove his armor. He summoned the power he needed, and his full suit of armor appeared to vaporize into little particles, leaving a brown-haired, blue-eyed man with ordinary clothes behind. He'd be able to recreate it when it was needed. "Better now?"

The girl to whom he was offering his aid blushed a little at the cheeks as her eyes roamed over the body of her enemy. Surprisingly, he wasn't incredibly muscular, as she had expected someone with his strength to be. In fact, he looked like an ordinary, average man, although he was quite handsome. "Uh... yeah... I guess."

Chrysaor nodded with satisfaction, and bent down to carefully lift the girl onto his back. He held his arms under her thighs, careful to avoid her well-toned rear, and she feebly crossed her arms around his neck. Chrysaor briefly wondered if the girl would attempt to strangle him, but he noted the weakness in her arms and concluded that she would be unable to even if she tried.

Chrysaor, now seemingly an ordinary man with a peculiar girl on his back, looked for a natural path to take that would lead him and his cargo off of this mountain. His search was interrupted as soon as it had begun when the girl he carried pulled on his hair with what strength she still had.

"Hey, pick up Drossel! We can't leave without it!"

"What's that? What's a Drossel?"

The girl tilted her head towards the ring blade she had fought him with. "That! That's Drossel! Go get it!"

"Are you kidding me? You nearly killed me with that thing, I'm not taking it with us!"

"Please, please, please, please, pleeease? It's really special to me, I can't leave it! It's... a memento of my mother!"

Chrysaor sighed, unable to argue with the deceptively sweet voice of the girl. He moved over towards the ring blade and bent to pick it up, tossing it over both his shoulders as well as the shoulders of the slim girl on his back. Finished retrieving the weapon, he once again began to search for an exit to this place.

"One more thing! Archy! C'mere, mama needs you!"

The girl whistled as she finished, and Chrysaor eyed a black raven with a white streak down its chest and forehead as it perched itself on top of Drossel. _You gotta be kidding me..._

_Caw!_

_"_Alright, now we can go! Onward, my noble steed!"

The girl he carried kicked him a few times in the ribs, giggling happily, despite her injury. Honestly, Chrysaor could only guess what was wrong with this girl's mind. More importantly, he could already tell that he had a _long _journey ahead of him.

* * *

**Sorry if this chapter was a little rushed at the end, I just got tired of writing, but I wanted to go ahead and finish. Anyway, has anyone else read those fics where Tira's gloomy side is called Jo? Where the hell did that come from? Where was that ever mentioned anywhere canonically... ever?!**


	7. Talks of the Road

**Normally I would update my stories in the proper order, but for now, both Call of Destiny and The Exeter Project are doing better than Beautiful Chaos, so I'll update this fic instead of one of the others. As a little side note, I just published a Tekken fic called Skies of Amber, so if any of you are Tekken fans, feel free to check that out. As always, I greatly appreciate all of the feedback you readers have been giving me. I realized recently that the best thing a reader can do for a writer is give them feedback, or simply encourage them to continue by dropping a little comment about how much you enjoy their story. You all have no idea how good it feels to receive so much positive encouragement and ideas from the readers. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

_Caw!_

Chrysaor, unarmored, eyed the annoying raven perched on a tree branch above him. It had been nearly a full day since he had accepted the burden of an infirm companion; who also wanted to cut his heart out.

Speaking of said burden, Chrysaor wondered what was taking her so long. She had left the little clearing the two of them had stopped to rest in when she claimed that she needed to relieve herself. And even though she was still in a lot of pain from the previous day, she fought through it in order to manage going to the bathroom without Chrysaor's help. Despite her seemingly loopy mind, the girl apparently still possessed the notion to preserve her modesty.

_Caw!_

The Sentinel of Lightning briefly thought of zapping the accursed raven above him, but he decided against it as he thought of the berserk fury he would endure at the hands of his unwilling companion.

After an hour of waiting, Chrysaor was beginning to get slightly worried about the girl he was currently looking after. Moreover, he was concerned about his own safety. He had made sure that the girl had left her weapon here with him, but he didn't dare underestimate her; with what little he had been able to discern about the girl so far, Chrysaor had come to the conclusion that she was quite guileful. The few times she had been awake in the past day, she had bombarded him with clever riddles that baffled the Sentinel. Of course, half of the time, she was also bombarding him with insults. She seemed to shift personalities quite often, and Chrysaor had already begun to wonder if she was mentally ill.

Fed up with waiting for the girl, Chrysaor decided to sling the girl's ring blade over his shoulder and went out in the general direction she had gone. The irritating raven perched itself on the edge of the circular weapon as he went, and it cawed in his ears every few moments. Each time, the urge to fry the bird increased.

After several minutes of meticulous searching throughout the woods at the foot of the mountain that had housed the old temple, Chrysaor spotted his goal at the edge of a small stream. The girl with the amethyst eyes was peering into the river intensely.

Before Chrysaor could get the girl's attention, she began to speak, although it was clear that it was not to the Sentinel.

"I don't know... this wasn't supposed to happen. Nighty said that we weren't supposed to fight him, but we did... is he gonna be angry?"

While Chrysaor looked around for whoever the girl was addressing, she spoke again.

**"You idiot! We just won't tell him! After we get back to Ostreihnsburg, we'll just leave out the part about the fighting!"**

Realizing that the girl was talking to _herself, _Chrysaor looked on with interest.

"How are we going to get Chrissy to take us back there? I don't think that's where he's going."

**"How have we even managed to stay alive this long, with your level of stupidity? After we recover more, we'll just-!"**

_Caw!_

Chrysaor frowned, as he knew that there was no way that the scarlet harlequin hadn't heard her pet raven. And indeed, the girl turned to face the source of the noise as soon as she heard it, and her expression as she did so was quite strange. At first, she scowled at the figure of the man who had defeated her, but then she smiled as she saw the two most beloved things in her life after Soul Edge: Drossel and Archimedes.

She whistled to her pet bird. "Archy! C'mere! Stay away from that mean man!"

Archimedes flew over to his master and came to rest in her hands. Chrysaor arched an eyebrow at the girl as she snuggled the creature.

"Mean man? I saved you from a very prolonged and miserable death on a desolate mountaintop. That doesn't seem very mean to me."

The girl turned her violet eyes towards the Sentinel and stuck her tongue out at him. "You threatened to cook Archimedes for dinner!"

Chrysaor shrugged. "It was payback for all of those stupid riddles."

"Just because you're an idiot doesn't mean you have to be so mean to Archimedes! That's animal cruelty, and I bet it'll be frowned upon in the future!"

Chrysaor sighed as he walked over to stand beside the girl. "Are you ready to go yet? We have to get going again soon."

The girl scowled. "I don't wanna go again! **It's boring as hell and **you're no fun!"

Ignoring her protests, Chrysaor picked the girl up and placed her on his back once more, trying his hardest not to injure her despite her struggling. With a sigh of defeat, the girl eventually quieted, and allowed Chrysaor to carry her onwards into the forest, in hopes that they might stumble across civilization.

It took quite some time to find some manner of road in the forest; and even then, it was only an animal trail. However, Chrysaor was hoping that it may have been a trail frequented by hunters, and if that was the case, he may encounter someone who could point him to the nearest town. He briefly wondered what he would do if the person he hoped to encounter couldn't speak his language... but the Sentinel decided to discard those thoughts for the time being.

Instead he carried onwards, surrounded by the silence of the forest that was unbroken except for his heavy footfalls. Normally, a person would enjoy such serene quiet. But within minutes, the persisting silence was making Chrysaor's skin crawl. It reminded him too much of Valhalla, where noise was sucked into some magical vacuum and the otherworldly place was left with nothing but unnerving quiet.

In an effort to break the tranquility of the forest, Chrysaor attempted to converse with his back-riding companion, who had been mostly silent for the last half-hour.

"So... where are you from?"

**"Don't talk to me."**

Chrysaor frowned. He had been hoping to deal with the girl's happier side. "Are you bored?"

**"Yes. Now shut up."**

The Sentinel of Lightning briefly contemplated how to undermine the girl's wall of anti-social behavior, and after a few moments, an idea came to him.

"Do you want to play a game?"

Chrysaor could almost feel his burden perk up as he uttered the word. "A game? What kind of game?"

"A guessing game."

The girl slumped back down on Chrysaor's shoulders. "Aw, that kind of game is boring..."

Chrysaor rolled his sapphire eyes. "Oh come on, it's more fun than you think. I'll start by guessing where you're from. It's better than doing nothing, right?"

The raven haired girl sighed. "I guess so..."

"Alright then... are you from... Europe?"

She replied unenthusiastically. "Yeah..."

Chrysaor continued unperturbed. "East or West?"

The question caused a moment of hesitation in the girl. "Uh... it's kinda in the middle..."

"Okay then, North or South?"

"North."

Chrysaor nodded. "I see... hmm... are you... Germanic?"

The girl kicked him in the sides. "How did you get that so fast? You cheated, didn't you?!"

Chrysaor cringed as her booted feet banged into his ribs. "Ow, no, how would I cheat when I'm just guessing? Besides, I still have to guess what area of the region you're from."

"Grr... fine."

Chrysaor walked on, subconsciously following the animal trail.

"East or West Germany?"

"East."

Chrysaor spent a few moments mentally listing the different Germanic regions he knew from that area. There were quite a few, and so he decided to start with the one he knew best.

"Are you from Saxony?"

The girl punched Chrysaor in the back of the head, although her lack of strength made it a futile attempt to hurt her carrier. "No way, no way, no way! Chrissy, you cheater! You totally cheated, getting it on the first guess like that!"

Chrysaor gave a short laugh at the girl's antics, temporarily forgetting that she had been hell-bent on killing him just the other day. "Well, I'm from southern Saxony, so I was just guessing the place I knew best. I was just lucky."

The girl on his back growled in defeat. "Well... I bet you can't guess my name!"

"How many letters?"

"Four!"

Chrysaor furrowed his brow in thought. Not many names were that short. "Only four? That's kind of unusual."

The Saxon girl wrapped her arms around Chrysaor's exposed neck like she was about to choke him. **"What's wrong with only four?"  
**

"Nothing. I didn't say it was wrong, just unusual. I bet you have a great name. "

The gauntlet-clad arms around the Sentinel's neck loosened. "W-well... you still haven't started guessing yet, and you'll never get it!"

Chrysaor smirked. "Oh, we'll see about that. I think you're underestimating my guessing prowess."

"Pfft, give it your best shot, you'll never find out my name!"

Chrysaor was unaware of how much distance he had covered so far, but for the moment, he really didn't care. This was the first time he had been subject to human companionship in over ten years. These were the kinds of things he used to do with his sister, all of those countless years ago. In the decade of solitude he had been forced to endure, it was all Chrysaor had wanted. For now, it didn't matter who this girl was, or what her motives were; he was just glad to have someone.

"Well then we'd best get started. Does your name have an L?"

* * *

Nightmare eyed the strange being that bowed before him. It had fought its way through both Astaroth and Ostreihnsburg's malfested guards in order to reach the throne room, and although Nightmare had been expecting a fight, he had not received it. When he had asked for its name, it had simply told Nightmare that his name was Spawn, a 'gift' from Malebolgia. Nightmare did not know what type of entity Malebolgia was, but if one of his servants was powerful enough to defeat Astaroth and the castle guards with such ease, then Spawn was a boon he would gladly accept.

Spawn appeared to be a tall man of slim but muscular stature. He sported a black jumpsuit with white accents on his face, which was covered with a mask, from where menacing green eyes glowed with eerie intensity. The outfit was finished with red-colored gauntlets and boots with spikes protruding from them, as well as chains that were wrapped around parts of his body. His right boot was strangely enlarged, and he carried a lethal battle-axe as his weapon of choice.

Finally done judging this new arrival, Nightmare found him to be an acceptable servant. Nevertheless, he would watch this 'Spawn' warily; he had no doubt that either this creature or his master, Malebolgia, had ulterior motives concerning Soul Edge. After all, the only servant that had ever come to Nightmare willingly was Tira, and that deranged sow was a special case. Because of these concerns, Nightmare would be sure to dispose of Spawn as soon as his usefulness had ended... although that was nothing new among Soul Edge's tyrannical regime.

Rising from his throne, Nightmare pointed a monstrous finger at Spawn. "Very well, your master's tribute is acceptable. But fail me even once, and both you and your master shall be consumed."

Spawn said nothing in reply, and Nightmare continued. "Your first task shall be an easy one. Soul Edge has discerned that one of my servants has been... captured. You will go and retrieve her. I require her reports on an unknown enemy. I will not be blindsided by a potential threat because of a lack of knowledge on its abilities."

Spawn nodded, and without a word, disappeared into a dark hole that seemed very similar to Zasalamel's method of transportation. Having dealt with this new arrival, Nightmare returned to his throne, planning out how to deal with the treachery of this Malebolgia creature, which the Azure Knight knew was inevitable.

* * *

Chrysaor finally stepped out of the forest of strange Asian trees as he quested for the last letter of his companion's name. So far, he had a T, an I, and a R, but the last letter had been eluding him so far. Having spent the last half-hour deciphering the girl's name, Chrysaor was eager to figure it out. After all, there weren't too many letters that would fit on the end of Tir, but there were some people out there with crazy names, so there were still quite a few possibilities.

"OK, let's see... which letter haven't I used yet?"

The purple-eyed girl on his back, whose mood had improved significantly, listed off the letter he hadn't used yet. "You still have A, E, K, M, P, Q, S, U, X, and Z! C'mon Chrissy, this should be easy!"

Although Chrysaor was pretty sure he knew what the last letter was, he thought he would make a little jest instead. "Oh, hmm... how about E?"

The raven-haired girl bopped Chrysaor on the back of the head. "Chrissy, you idiot! Why would my name be Tire?! That sounds so stupid! It's an A, an A you moron!"

Chrysaor grimaced as he felt a little lump forming on the back of his skull. Throughout the past two days, this girl had recovered a lot of her strength.

"Ow, stop that! I was only kidding! Anyway... so it's Tira then? I think... I think that's a pretty name."

The girl fell silent on his back, and Chrysaor wondered if he had said something wrong. After a few moments of silence, he turned his head to try and look at his back-riding acquaintance. "Tira?"

The harlequin girl pushed Chrysaor's face forward, to keep him from looking at her. "Yes, my name's Tira, OK?! Geez, you shouldn't say such embarrassing things, Chrissy, especially to a girl..."

Chrysaor smiled, finding Tira to be quite cute when she was flustered. "Well, my apologies. Now that I've got your name, can you please stop calling me Chrissy? It sounds like a girl's name."

Leaning forward so that Chrysaor could see her face, Tira stuck her tongue out at him. "No way, your name is sooooo boring! Chrissy sounds way better!"

Chrysaor frowned at the girl. "But...ugh, what it I told you my actual name?"

Tira grinned happily. "Oh, that's like a big secret for you for something, right? I like secrets! OK! Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

"Fine, fine, my name is Church."

Tira cast an irritable gaze at her carrier. "Oh, come on, that can't be your real name!"

"It's my last name."

The girl responded with, "But I don't want your last name! Tell me your first name, or I'll just keep calling you Chrissy!"

Chrysaor sighed. "Oh for the love... fine, but I don't share this with many people, so I'm trusting you to keep a secret, OK?"

Tira nodded enthusiastically, but Chrysaor knew that he probably couldn't trust her, even for something so trivial. "My name is Cyril, alright? Will you stop calling me Chrissy now?"

A moment of silence was a precursor to Tira's response. "Hmm... Cyril huh? That's not a Germanic name!"

"Oh yeah? Well Tira is freaking Scottish, so neither is yours!"

Tira grumbled. "Fine, fine... but Cyril is so hard to make a good nickname out of! Can I just keep calling you Chrissy instead?"

"Absolutely not."

The two travelers drifted into silence, and now that he was not enraptured in conversation, Cyril finally took notice of his surroundings. All around him were grassy hills and a few sparse sections of trees. Unfortunately, there was not a village anywhere in sight. He looked up at the sky, ignoring the strangely quiet raven perched on Tira's beloved weapon. The sun was setting rapidly, and the sky was already growing dark.

Resigning himself to a night in the wilderness, Cyril made his a way to the nearest copse of trees and gently set his human burden down against one of the gangly trees.

"Hey, why are we stopping, Chris-"

Cyril shot the girl a look of annoyance. "Er, Cyril? Why are we stopping? It's still so early!"

Cyril plopped down beside Tira, careful to lay Drossel out of her reach. "Early? It's nearly evening already. Who knows where the nearest settlement is? We might as well just stay here for the night."

A chilly breeze blew through the area as Cyril finished, and Tira shivered and stamped her feet like an angry child.

"But it's gonna be soooo cold! I want somewhere warm!"

Cyril eyed the scantily-clad teenager with a grin. "Well, if you didn't dress like-"

**"If you call me a tramp, I swear I'll strangle you with your spine."**

Cyril recoiled from the malevolence that briefly emanated from the girl. She had been in a pretty good mood for awhile now, so this burst of anger was unexpected.

Tira's anger was washed away though when another breeze of cold air rolled over the hills. She shivered again and let out a little whimper. "I hate the cold..."

Cyril weighed the danger of what he was about to propose. Under normal circumstances, it would be a dangerous move, but since he didn't actually require sleep...

"C'mere Tira."

The violet-eyed, bird-obsessed girl looked at Cyril with confusion. "Huh?"

"You said you were cold, so come over here."

A befuddled expression still plastered onto her face, Tira scooted closer to the Sentinel. "How is this going to keep me warm?"

Her question was answered when Cyril wrapped his arms around the ex-assassin and pulled her closer to him. The only repsponse she could manage to stutter through her surprise was,

"W-w-what the hell are you doing?!"

Tira tried to push herself away from the man, but he held her tightly as he answered. "Body warmth is more easily transferable between two people if they are closer to each other, This is about as close as we can get, and since we have no blankets, this will have to do."

Realizing her struggle was in vain, Tira ceased her futile attempt to escape from Cyril's grasp. As she relaxed into the embrace, it actually called back some fond memories.

There was once another person who used to hold Tira this way. Many, many years ago, there was another person who cradled her like this. That person was the closest thing Tira ever had to a mother, and although the malfested servant had believed she had buried those memories long ago, now they welled up inside of her.

At first, the thought of anyone else holding her like this besides her Mother Bird made Tira angry. But after a few moments, the simple sensation of being cradled in such a way calmed her.

"I can stop, if this is making you uncomfortable."

Tira replied without really thinking. "No!"

Cyril looked down at Tira questioningly, and the girl blushed as she realized how eager she had sounded. "I-I mean... I hate being cold, and since this whole damn situation is your fault, you have an obligation to keep me warm!"

Cyril smiled. "Oh, is that the reason? Or maybe..."

**"Don't get any funny ideas. I could just as easily use your corpse for a blanket."**

Cyril was well aware of that. Fortunately, as a Sentinel, Cyril did not actually have to sleep, so he could keep an eye on Tira throughout the whole night. Of course, the fact that he'd have the girl in his arms meant he could crush her with his immense strength if she tried anything... but he was really hoping that would not be necessary.

Looking down at the girl in his arms again, Cyril noticed that she was already dozing off. "Hmph. More tired than you let on, huh?"

**"Shut up... **no one asked you."

Those were the last words he got out of Tira before she drifted off into sleep. Cyril prepared himself for the several hours of nighttime he would spend doing pretty much nothing, and noted with disdain that he had totally forgotten to actually investigate that temple.

* * *

**Alright, I finally forced myself to finish this relatively short chapter. Remember that any feedback/encouragement is always great help! This chapter had very little focus on other SC characters, but that'll change soon enough. Anyway, enjoy this chapter until the next update.**


	8. Converging Souls

**OK, so I'm a bit confused on the feedback for the last chapter. A lot of people said, "This was OK, or fine," or something else equally... useless. What was OK? What was fine? What parts of the chapter were not pleasing for you to read? I can't adjust anything if you aren't more specific.  
**

**Also, for those people looking for extra characters like Link, Spawn, and Ezio, will you please calm down? First of all, Spawn did appear in the last chapter, and he will have more than a cameo role. Second, just because I said I was going to add Ezio and Link doesn't mean I'm going to do it first freakin' thing. The story is NOT about them. They are not the main characters, or the main focus. They will be there, but they'll be there when I've decided that the time for them has come. I will not bend the plot of the story just to add in extra characters. (I mean seriously, it's a Soul Calibur fic, not Legend of Zelda and not Assassin's Creed). Like I said, they will have roles in this story, and not just cameo roles either; but they'll get here when they get here.**

**Also, I know that Ezio did not live around 1590-1607, but for the sake of the story, let's just pretend that he did.**

* * *

Cyril lay with his eyes closed. Not sleeping, but in a sort of trance-like state where he mentally rested, instead of physically. Still, he was very aware of his surroundings; after all, he was currently cradling a bundle of unpredictable killing potential in his arms. In the form of a teenage girl.

If his counting had not been off in any way throughout the night, then dawn was a mere hour away, give or take a few minutes. Seeing this as an optimal time to plan his next destination, Cyril carefully extracted himself from his interlocked position with Tira, and rose from the ground as quietly as possible. Having accomplished his goal in not waking the girl, and taking into consideration just how early in the morning it was, the Sentinel was content to leave Tira alone for the time being, confident that she would not awaken anytime soon. Having come to that conclusion, Cyril proceeded to search for the highest point he could find, so that the energies of the earth and sky would be closer to a state of equilibrium, and therefore cause less interference with his supernatural reconnaissance.

The search for such a place took him pretty far from the tree he had spent the night; several hundred paces, if not more. However, he was sure that he could make it back before the sun rose, and hopefully before Tira woke up. When he did finally locate a suitable knoll for his current task, Cyril realized he had forgotten to take Eiserne Drossel with him. A brief moment of conflict gave him pause; should he go back and retrieve the weapon, therefore being completely assured that it was out of Tira's grasp, or should he complete his task as quickly as possible, with the intention of returning before the girl awoke? Knowing that walking all the way back to the tree and then locating this generic looking hill all over again would take considerable time he did not wish to waste, Cyril decided on the latter. He reasoned that, even if Tira should try to harm him once more, that he could easily defeat her in her weakened state.

With that problem settled, Cyril sat down in the soft grass with in a cross-legged fashion, aware that tracing abnormal energies would require some decent amount of time. He closed his eyes off from the world, in an attempt to block out any distractions. As soon as he felt as relaxed and focused as he could be, Eros' Sentinel began his analysis of this world's energies. All Sentinels possessed this ability. After all, without it, locating the Catalyst would prove nearly impossible. The most powerful sources of energy were detected first: his fellow Sentinels. From here, they were in the West, South, and Southwest. That was all he could tell from their energies though; he had no clue how they were faring in their mission, or what knowledge they may have ascertained thus far.

After those energy signatures were other, slightly less powerful ones. Two of them were easily pinpointed, as both were in the West somewhere, but not as far as the land Xandra was searching. Cyril's best guess would be that these energies were emanating from Europe, although were exactly, he could not tell. A few other signatures were of equal strength to those two, but for some reason, Cyril could not determine their origin. They were either widespread energies, or signatures purposefully scrambled by some other being.

After all of this, came the weak energies of his immediate surroundings: meaning that there were no other energies powerful enough to be detected from were Cyril was. Instead, he detected the natural energy of the surrounding life and world itself, such as the earth and wind, as well as the many animals that were near enough to be detected from his position. His range for such lifeforms was roughly half-a-mile. And as he recounted that little fact to himself, Cyril realized there was something missing in that half-mile radius: he couldn't detect Tira within it. Or Archimedes, for that matter, although that infernal creature had a much weaker energy signature than its master.

Finally exiting the confines of his own mind, Cyril returned his attention to the world, and noted with dismay that much more time had passed than he had originally planned spending. The sun was already peeking over the horizon, bathing the hilly land before it in orange, and the sky near the orb of flame in fuchsia, instead of the murky blue left over from the night.

The Sentinel quickly rose to his feet, berating himself for having been so careless. Aware that Tira was just as likely to be planning to kill him as she was to have merely gone elsewhere for some other purpose, Chrysaor decided to take the precaution of re-arming himself. A minor amount of energy was all it took for a Sentinel to manifest their armor. Several blue particles materialized, powered by Valhalla's net of magical energy. These particles combined on Cyril's body, and stuck there for a moment, temporarily creating a glowing blue man. When the armor was finished shaping itself around its wearer, the magical energy disappeared, and left only the enchanted armor that made Cyril into the Sentinel of Lightning in full. This whole process took a matter of seconds.

Cyril took this precaution in order to be prepared, should Tira sneak up on him or something. True, he could have just stayed where he was and wait until the girl came into his radius of detection once more, but who knew how long that would take? The Saxon girl could just as easily wait hours on him to come back to her, and then the two of them would've wasted hours waiting for each other to come find their counterpart.

Cyril did have a decent modicum of patience, since he had spent ten years doing little else than waiting, but now that he was finally back on the earth, he felt that the time for waiting was past. He was sick of waiting for events to come to him, and instead opted for himself to go out and meet them.

With this in mind, Cyril proceeded to head back to the place where he and Tira had spent the night, ever chary of the deviousness of the girl he dared to call a companion. Still, the short trip back to the tree was totally uneventful. The Sentinel of Lightning was not ambushed or otherwise accosted by Tira or any other creature. Despite this, Cyril kept his guard up, especially as he reached the tree in question, and noted that Tira was not there. Not only was she gone, but so were the things she kept with her: Archimedes and Eiserne Drossel. Now aware that Tira was in fact armed, Cyril intensified his own vigilance; sure, he had had a merry old time with the girl yesterday, but the fact that she was mentally unstable in some way or form was not lost on the Sentinel.

Cyril continued on his way, and now that he had entered the vicinity of where Tira was likely to be, decided to draw Naegling: he would feel much safer if he had the mystical weapon at the ready, instead of in its shining scabbard. The Sentinel continued on for nearly a mile, and watched as the scenery slowly changed, if only a little. The hills behind him had flattened out quite a bit, and ahead of him, trees had grown more plentiful. He wouldn't really call it a forest, but it was too large to be categorized as a copse. Such a pointless matter was dispelled as Cyril released he was thinking it, and he continued to watch all around him; especially the treetops, for the girl that may have been waiting to slit his throat. Not that she could do that while his armor protected him.

Cyril spent the better part of an hour investigating the area. It took such time because he thoroughly checked every nook and cranny he could find. With no success in his search for the violet-eyed girl that eluded him, Cyril briefly contemplated attempting to detect her energy again. In the end, he decided against it; one moment of a lowered guard was all that was needed for a cunning girl like Tira to ambush him. It would be a farce, and a potentially hazardous one as well.

Fortunately, his search would not endure much longer. As Cyril rounded another tree trunk, he came upon a small brook. Recalling the time he had found Tira near that stream a few days ago, he hoped to have a similar situation on his hands here. Deciding to follow the brook upstream, Cyril spent a good five minutes following it before finally chancing upon his quarry. Yes, she was near the brook, and no, she was not planning to assassinate Cyril, as far as he could tell.

Tira sat upon a tree-branch that was a few feet off the ground, with her ring blade over her shoulder and Archimedes perched on top of it. She stared into the water below intensely. Cyril decided to take this opportunity to observe the teenager and perhaps glean something significant from the exercise. However, as he shifted his weight to sit down, he snapped a miniscule twig under his metal boots. The sound was very faint; Cyril had hardly even heard it himself. But nevertheless, it was enough to garner the attention of the girl on the branch above.

Tira's head whipped around to ascertain the source of the disturbance. The movement was so rapid, that Cyril was reminded of the way a bird or squirrel jerks its head when it hears something potentially dangerous. As she laid eyes on him, Tira's amethyst eyes narrowed. Clearly, she was not pleased that Cyril had managed to get so close to her without being noticed.

**"...You."**

Cyril nodded. "Me. What are you doing out here?"

**"None of your business."**

Hoping to find some way to force the girl into a happier state of mind, Cyril thought of a way to do so. He shrugged and began to walk away. "Alright. Come back whenever you're ready."

He got just the response he had expected. Well, not the exact response, but close enough for him.

"Wait! Ciri, you aren't supposed to give up that easily! You're supposed to be persistent and stuff! Girls like that kind of thing!"

Ignoring the rest of the sentence, Cyril focused on the one part he didn't like. "Ciri? Where the hell did that come from? I told you what my name was."

"Well I told you that I didn't like what your name was, so I win."

Cyril sighed, content with beating his actual name into Tira's thick skull very soon. "Whatever. What are you doing out here anyway?"

Tira shrugged. "Fixing my hair. I needed some place with a reflection to do it."

"Why?"

Tira shot the Sentinel an irritated glare, as if she thought that Cyril should know very well why she would do such a thing. "You said my hair was lopsided, and that it made me look stupid, so I fixed it. It's straight now, see?"

Cyril took a moment to examine the equilibrium of Tira's pigtails. They were indeed equal, instead of unbalanced. "Oh. Well I guess they are. It looks nice."

Tira smiled happily. "I know! Oh, and by the way, **if you do ever call me stupid again, I'll splatter your brains all over the ground, and feed your corpse to my birds."**

Cyril was intrigued how Tira could shift behavior so suddenly. He had convinced himself already that she had some sort of condition, but these little occurrences made him curious as to what it was specifically. Shaking those thoughts from his mind, Cyril returned his gaze to Tira, but before he could respond to her previous threat, he was stopped by the look of surprise on her face.

"Hey, that's a really big axe. How do you carry that thing so easily?"

Cyril eyed the girl peculiarly, confused by the shift in topic. Little did he know that the girl was not addressing him. "What are you-!"

* * *

"Requiescat in pace, bastardo."

Ezio Auditore allowed the Templar he had just slain slump over in his arms, and the Italian assassin deposited him over the edge of a stone wall and into the waters of the Golden Horn, which separated the European and Asian shores of Istanbul. The body made an audible splash as it hit the surface of the water, but the sound was lost in the hectic bustle of the city. The killing went completely unnoticed.

Ezio flipped open the journal he had stolen from the Templar captain before killing him, hoping to discover what information the man had been attempting to get to his superiors. The master assassin skimmed the pages, looking for anything important. The first few pages were merely pleasantries from the captain to his commander. Ezio skipped over these. Fortunately, he did find what he was looking for; a report on the Templar search for some powerful artifact to bolster their standing here in the city.

But even though this was the information Ezio was looking for, it made little sense to him. It was mostly talk of a pair of swords, supposedly very powerful, that were out of Templar reach. According to the captain, both of these blades were wielded by deadly warriors who resided somewhere in Europe. It was written that one of these men dwelt in a heavily fortified castle within Germany, but the other warrior was currently roaming the continent, and his whereabouts were unknown.

The report was quite long, and Ezio didn't have time to read and comprehend the whole thing. He hid the journal within his garments, and proceeded to make his way back towards the assassin headquarters. Perhaps Yusuf would know more about these "Spirit Swords." Ezio merged into the crowd, leaving the disabled or dead Templar entourage of the captain behind him.

* * *

Cyril heard the whistling of the air behind him as something sliced through it at high speed. Acting reflexively, he ducked down, attempting to avoid whatever was being swung at his head. After he heard it pass, he rolled away from his attacker and turned to face it. Before him was some strange humanoid looking creature in a black jumpsuit and a large battle axe. It had several chains wrapped around it, and sported a lot of white highlights. Its eyes glowed green, and one of its red boots was strangely enlarged. Chrysaor readied Naegling to counter his new adversary.

"Clarify your intent, or I will destroy you. And be careful about your answer. The words you utter may be your last."

Tira cut into the confrontation from above. "Oh, Ciri, you sound so dangerous when you talk like that! I like it!"

Cyril's black-clad opponent snickered. "Ciri? That is such a gay name. Suitable for a little bitch like you."

Cyril anger was instantly redirected from Tira's misuse of his name to his enemy's insulting words. "Trust me Tights, you don't want to know how bad I'll brutalize you if you keep talking. I'll shove that massive freaking boot up your ass."

Tira clapped, obviously amused by the two men below her. "Hey, Ciri, that's the most violent thing I've ever heard you say! Keep going! **Kill him, cut him into a hundred tiny pieces!"**

Both men ignored the unstable girl. The jumpsuit guy retorted angrily. "Tights?! You little fuck, I'll rip you in half!"

With that, Cyril's enemy lunged forward and swung his axe in an overhead swing. Cyril caught it with his left hand, stopping the heavy weapon in its tracks, and retaliated by jabbing at his foe's exposed side with Naegling. His enemy intercepted the blade with his own hand, much like Cyril had done. However, his maneuver did not go without injury. By gripping the double-edged blade, it sliced into the black-clad man's hands. Cyril exerted more of his might to press the blade towards his enemy's torso, and his opponent was forced to compensate by pressing against Neagling even harder. The magical blade cut deeply into his palms, but the blood that gushed from the wound was not red: in fact, it was black, and seemed too thick to be blood. It looked more like ooze to the Sentinel.

So far, the man had matched Cyril in strength, but if the trembling in his arms was any indicator of his condition, then it would seem that he had reached his limit. A little more force and Naegling would plunge into the dark torso of Cyril's opponent. Aware that this was about to happen, his opponent broke their grapple lock by kicking Cyril in the gut and knocking the Sentinel off of his feet. Beyond that, Cyril was not damaged in the slightest. He rolled back to his feet, and prepared himself for another bout, as his opponent took a few steps backwards. Cyril aimed the tip of his blade at the man, while also gathering stream of electrical energy around his other arm to emphasize his point.

"I am Chrysaor, Sentinel of Lightning. You stand no chance against me. Forfeit, or you will suffer a fate worse than death."

His opponent sneered. "Yeah? Well I'm Spawn, and I already have!"

Spawn rushed forward once more, once again swinging his axe in an overhead motion. Cyril wondered why he would try the same tactic twice. "Folly!"

But before he could intercept the weapon like he had done before, Spawn seemingly disappeared into some sort of black hole. Cyril was confused by this phenomenon, but only had a moment to ponder it before that same axe smashed into the side of his helmet from behind.

The impact sent Cyril flying into the brook beside him, and caused quite a large splash for such a shallow body of water. Tira clapped with glee.

"Whoa, that was so cool! But show me more blood next time, OK?"

Cyril shot an irritated glance at the girl. "Tira! Why the hell didn't you warn me about that!?"

The bird-obsessed teen returned his annoyance with an irritable tone of her own. **"Why would I do that? We aren't friends. I'm trying to kill you, remember?"**

Archimedes emphasized the sentence with a cackling cry natural to his species, and for the 132nd time, Cyril thought of turning the bird into fried poultry. If he was lucky, the shot would singe off some of Tira's hair too, perhaps teaching the insufferable girl a lesson.

The Sentinel brushed those pointless thoughts from his mind, despite how entertaining they were. He rose to his feet and charged up a shot of electrical energy.

"You aren't the only one around here with special abilities. You're going to regret challenging me."

Spawn's green eyes narrowed, but he made no move against Cyril. Instead, he spoke a word of farewell.

"Sorry bro, but I'm not here for you. Just this bitch." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to point at Tira as he said that.

**"What did you call me!? I'll tear you limb from li-!"**

Tira's enraged rant was cut off as Spawn leaped up to the branch beside her, and slung the girl over his shoulder. "Shut up. You've got a problem, bring it up with the Nightmare guy. His orders anyway."

Cyril was all too aware of what was about to happen, and he made a last ditch attempt to stop his opponent from fleeing with Tira in tow. But he still needed another second or two to charge a decent shot, and Spawn was already prepared to escape. Apparently, Tira knew what was about to happen as well, and clutched both Eiserne Drossel and Archimedes in an attempt to avoid being separated from them.

Spawn made a mock salute and jumped into the air. "Later, metal-man!" With that, he and his passenger disappeared into another black hole, and Cyril's bolt shot met nothing but tree bark, causing the vegetation to burst into flames. Now left alone, the Sentinel kicked the dirt below him.

"Grr... son of a bitch!"

* * *

"I don't understand. This force is so powerful that it threatens even our realm? But how can something so distant be so potent?"

Link looked to Navi for an answer, but the little fairy merely repeated what the Princess had already told him. "The events surrounding this force will be on such a cataclysmic level that space and time will be rendered useless, in terms of shielding other realms from the destruction. It must be stopped before it reaches that level of potential danger. Use the Warlock's Stone to travel to this lost realm and prevent the impending catastrophe!"

Link sighed. He should've known better than to rely on Navi for a decent explanation. He wondered what could be so powerful that it threatened Hyrule even from another realm. Surely it was a powerful force to be reckoned with. But what was it exactly? A monster? Or an ancient artifact of untold power? Regardless of what it was, the task fell to Link to stop it. But first, he had to acquire the Warlock's Stone, which was of course, locked in a dungeon somewhere.

It was frustrating to Link that he had to spend time in Hyrule just to find the artifact that would get him to this other realm. A quest as a precursor to another quest? That was just... irritating.

"Hey, hey listen!"

It was going to be a long journey. Although Navi did talk a bit too much... Link was glad to have her with him. Long travel was always more bearable when there was a friend to travel with.

* * *

**Yeah, so there was a good bit of language in this chapter, but for the record, Spawn's wiki did say that he was the most foul-mouthed SC character. And as for Link... I've never even played a Legend of Zelda game, so half the stuff I write for him will be concocted bull. On another note, if you are going to review, try to say something slightly more informative and helpful this time. I need specific details if I'm going to know what I should fix.**


	9. Impending Doom

**You know how people have moods? I guess the same goes for when there is writing to be done. I should really alternate which stories I'm writing, but I'm only really in the mood for Soul Calibur at the time. Anyway, thanks for all of the feedback from the last chapter. The amount of readers is climbing fast. And by the way, thanks to JerichoCross, I know quite a bit more about Link. Now I can be more accurate when writing about him in the future. (As well as go back and fix that ditching Navi comment). **

**Now, I have a few things to say about pairings. A lot of the pairings you guys want or impossible if the story is kept canon. For example, in actual Soul Calibur canon, Siegfried and Hilde never get together. Neither do Talim and Yun-Seoung, or Kilik and Xianghua. So, are you guys, as readers, alright with me bending canon in order to make these aspects of the fic? If so, then onward we go. If not, I need to know sooner than later.**

* * *

Hilde's mount fell forward as its iron-shod hooves slipped on the muddy ground below it. The Wolfkrone princess barely managed to stop herself from falling in the muck by outstretching her free arm, and once again cursed the torrential rain that had impeded the progress of both herself and her troops for the past week.

A few days after leaving Wolfkrone, a massive storm had conquered the sky and begun to pour drenching sheets of cold water on the column of soldiers below. And it had not stopped. Not for a single day since then. Needless to say, over a week of cascading rain had done a lot more than just dampen Hilde's spirits. The ground they traveled on was little more than a muddy bog now. Instead of walking or riding, the Wolfkrone soldiers sloshed through brown muck that almost rose to their knees. The distance they had traveled so far should've taken them two days, but instead they had been traveling for ten.

And the roads could only worsen, if this downpour kept up. Already, threats of mudslides and sinkholes were quite worrisome. In fact, a swordsman had already lost his horse to one such sinkhole. The might of all the soldiers could not rescue the poor animal from the swallowing mud; the would-be rescuers couldn't even get their footing to do so.

Fortunately, the hills that the column traveled on had done a little bit to improve the situation. The incline of the land helped run the water downhill, so that it wouldn't soak into the ground as much as it would have on flat land. But this did little to improve the mood. The soldiers were demoralized, tired, and already sick of travel. Yet the only battle that had been fought was against this accursed rain. Each and every member of the column, Hilde included, was caked in mud, which, although it was washed off by the rain from the heavens, was quickly replaced when the troops fell into the muck.

Hilde was used to the rigors of battle; and that included all of the dirt, sweat, and blood. She wasn't unused to being dirty. But this was different. She felt soaked to the bone, and every inch of her body felt as though it was covered with slimy, brown mucus. At this exact moment, what Hilde wanted the most, even more than the destruction of Soul Edge, was a warm bath, a hot meal, and a hearty fire. No doubt her soldiers felt the same...

"Princess!"

Hilde turned to face her lieutenant, careful not to fall off of her horse's slippery saddle. "Gerhilde? What is it?"

The green-haired woman rode up beside her princess, although watching her horse stumble through the mud was almost comical. Gerhilde was Hilde's right hand for this journey, since the Wolfkrone princess had opted to leave Luana in charge back home. Gerhilde took a moment to catch her breath before speaking, as the very atmosphere around the column was exhausting.

"Princess Hilde, the troops cannot go much further. The horses are getting antsy, and those on foot are exhausted. We need rest."

Hilde shook her head, obstinately opposing any idea of stopping. "Nonsense. We've hardly traveled half a league today, if that! We cannot step yet."

The scarlet haired woman said this, but on the inside, she just wanted rest as well. It was only her determination to reach Ostreihnsburg that kept her moving at all. It was just as likely that her troops only kept moving out of dedication to their princess.

"Princess, please. If we reach Ostreihnsburg in this condition, we will be unable to fight effectively anyway. Surely Soul Edge won't leave its stronghold anytime soon. Is it not better to take longer to get there, so long as we have more energy when we do?"

The logic of that argument wasn't lost on Hilde. Truly, she would never be able to besiege Ostreihnsburg with her troops in this condition. But the lack of progress today nagged at her wish to quickly reach Ostreihnsburg. She prepared to ask her troops for just one more hour of walking, but before she could, she was met with a sight that sunk her heart as much as the mud sunk the boots of her soldiers.

The column was exiting the hilly region they had been graced with so far. Before them was a large open plain that stretched out all the way to the horizon. Hilde could _see _how far the flat ground had sunk into the earth. The pouring rain had saturated the area ahead to such a degree that the plains could be more accurately described as swampland. The column would never be able to move through that; if they tried, both man and beast alike would be endangered by the horrific conditions of their footing. No doubt that some places in the bog ahead were deep enough to swallow a man.

Gerhilde stared a the grim scene with a dismal look. "Please, your Highness, we cannot possibly hope to traverse _that _in these conditions. It's just... not possible!"

Hilde scowled, irritated that the very skies and earth seemed to oppose her. She wanted to push forward; determination and willpower were known to be her two most prominent aspects of character. Of course, this was also viewed as stubbornness, and it was quite true that the princess was stubborn at times. But even she would not force her troops into such a nightmare as what lay ahead. Sighing, the redheaded Wolfkrone princess couldn't help but wonder if her journey itself was cursed; plagued by some opposing force whose goals were contradictory to her own.

She turned to her troops, motioning for them to turn back a ways and find as suitable of a campsite as they could, as a blast of thunder permeated the air around them.

* * *

Tira sat perched on the tallest of Ostreihnburg's many towers. Many of her Watchers were there with her; although only Archimedes had been brought along with her when Spawn kidnapped/rescued her, all of her ravens had made it back to their master over the past week.

Speaking of time, it usually passed quickly for the broken-minded girl. She usually had things to occupy her focus when she was at her master's side; but after she had been brought back to Nightmare by Spawn, and subsequently given her report on Cyril, (She had left out the details of her getting along with him at certain times) the Azure Knight had told Tira to do whatever she wished until he summoned her again.

So this week had gone by very slowly for the girl. Although she could watch the massive storm off in the distance, she didn't really have anything to do; and her thoughts kept wandering to things that bothered her. For instance, while she was performing no tasks for Nightmare at all, Spawn had been sent on several missions since his arrival in Ostreinsburg. It seemed as though Nightmare was taking a liking to this new servant of his, and more importantly, finding him more useful than Tira. The thought of being replaced as Nightmare's dominant servant by that stupid teleporting guy made the malfested girl angry, and more than a little worried.

Tira briefly recalled the tender words Nightmare had spoken to her before she had left on her previous assignment. The things that were spoken then were nowhere to be found now. But the thought of tender words brought Cyril to the forefront of her divided mind. She recalled a lot of nice things the man had said to her, and even more than that, how he had cradled her that night to keep her warm. Reminiscing about that memory even made Tira's gloomy side a little flustered.

**Honestly, we only spent two days with him, and it was against our will to boot...**

_Really? I think we could've left a day early if we really wanted to. I mean, we were in good enough condition to ditch him after the first night, but you didn't wanna.  
_

Tira's gloomy side responded with irritation, but her jolly self thought she could detect a slight hint of embarrassment in there as well. **Shut up! I only wanted to stay near him as long as possible to increase our opportunities for killing him.** **B-besides, you didn't want to leave after the first night either...**

_Well I think you didn't want to leave because you fell in looove. L-O-_

Tira's ribbing of herself was cut off by herself; if anyone could truly understand how that works. **We don't "fall in love!" We don't need love! We only need Soul Edge! Your childish fantasies about romance are a sign of weakness! ...no one... no one could ever love us that way... and that's why we should just burn the idea of love forever! It's a useless emotion anyway.**

Now even Jolly Tira was depressed. _Sheesh, you sound just like Zassy. We could at least hope...for...who am I kidding? No one could love a monster. Not even one that looks pretty on the outside. Ciri was... lying. Lying when he pretended to care._

In another truly confounding manner, Tira's gloomy side tried to console her counterpart. **It's alright. Soul Edge will always keep us. Next time we find Cir- I mean, that man; we'll gut him like a fish, and then we won't have to worry about his lies anymore and we'll both be happy.**

_O-OK... that sounds nice.  
_

"TIRAAA! COME TO ME!"

Nightmare's bellow scattered Tira's ravens and almost knocked the brooding girl off of her perch.

_Why does this seem familiar?_

* * *

Wallachia castle: surrounded by rumors of mythical creatures of darkness and curses created by such beings. Chrysaor looked upon this structure from afar; he had used his Lightning Stream ability once more to jump from China to this place. Well, near it, at any rate. He had still required a full week of travel to reach the region. He had come here because, like the temple back in mainland China, this castle possessed a peculiar energy of darkness. It swirled around it like fog, and it felt remarkably similar, although weaker, than the energy from the mountain monastery.

Chrysaor had been eager to reach this place. Several days ago, the Sentinel had felt a massive energy distortion in northern Europe; and he soon identified it as one of the many by-products of The End. Some sort of unnatural anomaly was wracking the Germanic region; and although Chrysaor didn't know what it was exactly, he did know that it bore energy akin to a thunderstorm; a very, very large thunderstorm. He wondered if Talim, who was also able to detect disturbances in the wind, felt it as well. Although Chrysaor did not know where the young Wind Priestess was right now, he was sure that someone with her abilities would be able to feel the disturbance that was taking place in Northern Europe.

This unnatural phenomenon spurred Chrysaor onwards; the more of these anomalies there were, the closer The Final Consummation was. Of course, even now, Chrysaor may have had decades until The End began. But nevertheless, he was not eager to test such things, as there was no way to know just when The End would occur; the anomalies were just a rough estimate of a countdown.

All of these things occupied Chrysaor's thoughts; along with that of Tira. The girl had been kidnapped by Spawn nearly a week ago; and Chrysaor wasn't sure how he felt about it. Sure, he had taken a sort of... interest in the girl, but as she herself had said, they were not friends. Nor were they acquaintances, even. The only thing they knew about each other was names and birthplaces, and maybe a few tiny aspects of character.

Still, Chrysaor had grown somewhat attached to Tira; and maybe it was because she was the first person he had had any real human interaction with. That struck the Sentinel of Lightning as ironic, considering that Tira had met him with the intention of killing him. But on the other hand, although Chrysaor disliked admitting it, Tira was little more than a distraction. His purpose here on earth was to find the Catalyst. A mortal companion would only slow him down. He was not here to befriend people... only save them from fiery Armageddon.

With that in mind, Chrysaor neared the castle he sought to investigate. It was, unfortunately, in a very difficult position. It sat high on a hill, and the gate was steel, as far as he could tell. Climbing the walls would be difficult also, as it seemed mostly smooth and devoid of outcroppings. The walls themselves were also several hundred feet tall. But Chrysaor did see one potential entryway. If he charged his electrical energy into his legs, he could make it. How angry would the owners of the castle be if he smashed such a nice work of art?

* * *

Amy stood in her father's study, one hand brushing the spines of the many books it housed, and the other holding a chocolate muffin Marienbard had left behind. Much to her chagrin, Amy had never learned how to cook anything herself; Raphael had always insisted that such a thing was servant work, and therefore below his esteemed daughter. However, there was plenty of food stored in the kitchen's pantry, and more importantly, plenty of sweets. Father had done a wonderful job of spoiling Amy over the past few years, and now she had an uncontrollable sweet tooth. She even had a minimal number of sweets to consume each day. Fortunately, possessing a certain amount of vampire blood meant that Amy's metabolism was unusually high; and therefore she didn't really gain too much weight from her unhealthy eating habits.

But although Amy was currently occupying her father's study, she wasn't here to actually read anything. The only books she really liked to read were those that dealt with romance, and there were practically none of those in Raphael's collection. Amy hated to admit it, but the fantastical stories of romantic love intrigued her. It was something alien to her. She had never experienced that type of love before... and she really wanted to. Sure, she was loved by her father, and she loved him, but that was a family type of love. It wasn't the type of love Amy was interested in.

Of course, such interest may have just been caused by hormones. After all, Amy was that age, and even a malfested girl like her couldn't escape the subtle changes in her body. She hoped to conquer such childish fantasies as love in the near future; but for now, while Raphael was away and she was left alone in this dismal castle, she was willing to entertain them, if for no other sake than to occupy her thoughts.

Despite her efforts to the contrary, Amy was growing ever more restless as the length of Raphael's absence extended. She knew that the task Raphael had left to perform was for her sake; he only wanted the best for her. But nevertheless, she couldn't help but feel slightly bitter about the whole situation. How could a parent leave their fledgling, and expect it to be pleased with their absence? Regardless of her father's motives, he had still left her alone. All alone in this expansive, deserted castle. Although not for much longer, as she was about to find out.

The silence of Raphael's study was shattered right along with the stained glass window that dominated one of its walls. In a shower of iridescent glass, some silver and red figure landed in the center of the room; and unfortunately crushed one of Raphael's expensive tables as he did so.

This seemed remarkably similar to an incident with a certain green-haired girl once before . _Oh dear... Father is not going to be too happy about that window. He just finished replacing it a few months ago._

Amy stood completely still, unfazed by the armored intruder that had just burst into the study through the window. Her lack of movement left her unnoticed by the strange being, who was shaking off splinters of wood from his torso as he stood. Seeing as she was already behind him, and that she had, fortunately, brought her rapier along with her, Amy quietly positioned herself behind the intruder, the sound of her footsteps concealed by the cackling of the blazing fireplace. Soon she was within a decent enough range to place the tip of her blade at the back of her enemy's neck.

"Who are you?"

* * *

**"That's it? That's all he wanted me for!?"**

Spawn eyed the small crazy girl he was about to transport. "What are you so pissed off about? You were bored, weren't you?"

Tira shot the axe-wielding creature a look of irritation. **"That's beside the point! I've been without any orders all week, and now that I finally do, it's just to go and kidnap some stupid kid!"**

Spawn rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but it's that Greek lady's kid, right? Don't you hate her?"

**"Yeah, which is why I want to kill her, not nab her stupid babies!"**

Spawn tried to play to the sadistic side of this deranged lunatic. "Wouldn't kidnapping a mother's children cause way more suffering than just killing her? And don't you want to make this woman suffer?"

Tira pondered this seriously. "Hey, I never thought about that... that's actually a really good idea! You aren't as dumb as you look, Tights!"

Spawn filled with rage at hearing the name that stupid lightning-metal bastard had given him. "T-Tights!? Listen you bitch, if you call me that again, I'll rip you in half!"

The harlequin-esque girl wagged a finger at him. "Not so fast, Tights! You may be more useful right now, but I'm still Nighty's favorite! If you hurt me, he'd get reeeeeeaaal mad!"

Spawn said nothing, but just snatched the girl up and prepared to take her to Athens, all the way on the opposite side of Europe. "There's this medication to cure your annoying voice. It's called shut the hell up."

* * *

Chrysaor judged the threat level of the person behind him. He couldn't see her, and he couldn't tell just what she was threatening him with, but he felt that whatever the situation was, he wasn't in that much danger. He raised his palms to show that he was unarmed, and slowly began to face his unknown 'captor'.

"Look, I'm really sorry about that window..."

He hardly caught sight of the girl, and the rapier she pointed at him, before she stopped him with her voice.

"Don't turn around."

For the voice of a young girl, it was awfully commanding. Chrysaor thought it was funny, but he complied with the girl's wishes anyway.

"I asked you a question."

"That question has an answer you won't understand."

Not even a moment of hesitation was put into the girl's retort. "Is that so?"

Chrysaor nodded. "It is. although I'm sure you still wish for an answer?"

"Quite."

Chrysaor shrugged. "Suit yourself. I am Chrysaor, an elemental wielding warrior of immense strength sent into the mortal realm by a being with near deity-like status in order to preserve all life as you know it."

This time, there was a long silence before the girl behind Chrysaor responded. "Oh...I see."

"You do?"

"Of course. You're one of _those _people. There seems to be a trend with crazy people breaking through that window..."

Chrysaor rolled his eyes, hidden behind his helm. "Well, I told you that you wouldn't understand the answer."

The girl did not reply to this, but uttered a new command instead. "Remove your armor, and drop any weapons you have into a pile along with it."

Chrysaor scoffed. "Or what, you'll prick me with your little toad-sticker?"

"I'll do a lot worse than that. Besides, you are in no position to be defying me."

Chrysaor teased the girl before disarming her by replying with her own words. "Is that so?"

Before she could answer, the Sentinel spun around at lightning speed and whipped his arm into the blade the girl wielded. She was unprepared for such a maneuver; her grip on the rapier's handle had been weak. And thus, the sword was sent flying across the room, and it landed several paces away from the two of them.

The scarlet-haired girl, whom Chrysaor could now see fully, stumbled backwards in surprise. But before she could tumble backwards and land on her rump, Chrysaor caught a hold of her arm, gently pulling the Gothic-lolita girl back to her feet.

"So who was in no position to be defying you?"

* * *

Talim shuddered, as she was beleaguered by foul winds from the west. There was something amiss with the wind lately, and although she had felt this disturbance for several days now, she still did not know what was causing it.

"Still feeling that bad omen, Talim?"

The Wind Priestess looked to Hwang, who stood beside her on the Valiant Gale's deck. They were just about to pull into a port town in Korea, after sailing for several weeks.

"It is more than a bad omen. There is something very wrong with the wind. I've never felt anything like it."

Hwang stroked his chin in thought. "What do you think it is?"

Talim shrugged as she fiddled with the tips of her elbow blades, Syi Salika and Loka Luha. "I'm not sure. But do you remember what Church said? About unnatural phenomenons occurring in nature because of impending doom? It would not surprise me if that was the source of this foul air."

The serious conversation between the two was interrupted by Seong-Mina, who came up behind them and placed her hands on Talim's shoulders.

"I think you're just seasick."

Hwang eyed the Korean woman in a joking manner. "The only one who has been sick this whole journey is you, Mina. If anything was wrong with Talim, I think it would be homesickness."

Mina stuck her tongue out at her fellow countryman. "Whatever. I'm sure she isn't feeling this way just because she misses that silly bird."

Talim looked up at the taller woman with pouting eyes. "Alun isn't silly! He's a very noble and loyal falcon! And I actually do miss him..."

Seong-Mina sighed. "Sheesh, don't look at me with those eyes, it makes me feel guilty. Besides, maybe the reason you're really so bummed out is that your handsome "Sir Sentinel" isn't around to keep you company.

The Wind Priestess blushed furiously. "O-of course not! As a Priestess of the Wind, I would never let s-such impure thing... I can't think about those things! It's wrong!"

"It's wrong to think that a guy is handsome? Geez, strict religion."

Hwang poked Mina in the side. "Stop teasing her Mina. You were also smitten with his 'dashing good looks' as you said yourself after he left."

Mina punched Hwang in the back of the head. "Shut up. You're just mad because you aren't as good-looking as he is. Besides, I said no such thing."

Hwang rubbed the back of his head. "Is that kind of comment really necessary Mina?"

The three of them continued to accost each other in this way, unaware that in the near future, such lighthearted conversation would be scarce.

* * *

**Wow, I cranked this out in two days... Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I think I put a lot more detail into it than I usually do. There was also a good bit of insight into a lot of characters, as well as a decent modicum of humor. I'm rather pleased with it; I just hope you guys are as well.**


	10. A REALLY BIG RESPONSE TO FEEDBACK

**OK, so I don't really have time for a chapter right now because I am in the midst of a project at school which is unfortunately dominating most of my time. Even more unfortunately, I have been struck down with a stomach virus. However, I can at least write a little response to the amazing amount of feedback in-between my bouts of sickness. Anyway, there should be a new chapter in roughly a week or so, provided I recover physically and have some spare time. I know some of you may not care for this kind of response thing, but I prefer to actually maintain a sort of "reader input, writer response" relationship. So you can ignore this if you want. But I'd appreciate it if you didn't, since it does address the feedback of the readers, which is obviously, all of you.**

* * *

**-Let's start with a review left by guest Lucius. I appreciate his constructive criticism, but find quite a few things I disagree with. His first point was that it seemed like all SC characters would be weaklings compared to the Sentinels. And I'll admit, it does seem this way. But, when you think about it, Chrysaor has only fought Voldo, Hwang, Tira, Olcadan, and Spawn. The first three in that list are all human. They don't possess abnormal abilities or magical/enchanted weapons. Does it not make sense that they would be hopelessly outmatched an adversary who does possess those things? As for Olcadan, Chrysaor technically _lost _to him. Superior skill won out against raw power. Spawn, as I know, is ridiculously powerful, and could easily go toe-to-toe with one of the Sentinels. But as I mentioned before, his goal was to return Tira to Ostreihnsburg, not fight and kill her captor. It was a smash and grab kind of thing. Now, when Chrysaor fights against enemies of immense strength and skill and/or wielders of supernatural weapons, he'll be more evenly matched with them. So no, the SC cast will not just be a bunch of hapless weaklings compared to the Sentinels. **

**Lucius' second point was that it would be difficult to keep readers with an OC protagonist, as readers want to see their favorite characters. I understand this. I know that it is a very real danger. But tell me, have I _not _tied the SC characters into every chapter (Excluding the first) so far, despite the fact that the fic is focused on an OC protagonist? Did I also not say that I planned on making use of the majority of SC characters in the fic itself? So, how do you guys feel about this? Do you think that this story suffers because the main character is not an SC original, even though the actual SC character have a near equal amount of showtime?**

* * *

**-Now we can address pairings, as that was a big focus of the last chapter. The pairing I've seen the most supported thus far is Link x Talim x Amy triangle kind of thing. I do have one issue with this. Although I don't know much about Legend of Zelda lore, although I do know a little bit more now, thanks to a certain reader, doesn't Link have some sort of crush/infatuation with Zelda? I may be wrong on that, but if he did, wouldn't he have several issues with romantic relations (Other than his naivety) with other girls? (Also, I don't want him to have Amy, grr... and I bet Raphael doesn't either). **

**As for the more obvious pairings, like Xianghua and Kilik, those are already inevitable. (I mean, c'mon, who in the right mind would want those two with anyone else but each other?) As for Talim and Yun-Seoung, I only mentioned that because it was shipped. Trust me, I don't like the idea of those two together anymore than the majority of you.**

**And finally, as one last thought, Profezia di Morte mentioned that Cyril x Tira x Taki would be interesting. I don't know if that means you'd like it, or if it'd just be interesting, but what makes you think so? Not that I'm against it or anything, but I'm just wondering where Taki came from so suddenly.**

* * *

**Well, that's about it. Like I said, I'll try to get a new chapter out ASAP, but it's an unlikely prospect at best for a week or two. I appreciate all of the feedback; so much encouragement and interest in the story is really motivating, and I'm truly grateful. **

**(This is totally irrelevant, but I just realized that Hilde is only 18 in Soul Calibur 4. Because in 5 she's 35, minus seventeen... I'm sure you guys can do easy math like that, I know. Still, I didn't realize she was that young. I mean, she's only a year away from Tira, and when you compare those maturity levels... sheesh).**


	11. Twisted Heart

**This is probably going to be the last update for a week or two (Most likely two). Not that I don't greatly enjoy writing Beautiful Chaos, but in doing so, I've neglected a lot of my other stories. So, I need to catch up on those, and then I'll get back to this. **

**I also finally acquired a copy of Soul Calibur II. It's great game, but HOLY FUCKING SHIT, WHY IS IT SO HARD? Especially the advanced Weapon Master mode; "Don't fall down in the entire fight against three enemies of extreme speed and skill or you'll instantly die!" What the shit?!  
**

**Bah, whatever, it's pretty awesome. Minus the really bad English voice acting for some characters, that is. Anyway, here we go...**

* * *

"As expected, your 'Sentinel' is distracting himself with frivolous matters."

Eros turned to face Apollo. "I do not appreciate the tone in which you are using, Apollo. Besides, is not Helios also being distracted?"

The Four rested on their thrones, having just finished checking up on the progress of their Sentinels. They had been keeping a close eye on them ever since they left, and so far, none of the four Sentinels were having much success. They were being...distracted.

Demeter intervened in the conversation before it could escalate to an argument. "Peace, friends. Do not forget that our Sentinels are powered by Valhalla's net; and Valhalla's net is powered by our unity. I dare say that all of our Sentinels are losing focus. But can we blame them? They have been away from the world for such a very long time. Is it not natural that they would first embrace the things they miss, even before their mission? Remember, they may be Sentinels; but they are only human."

Artemis nodded sagely. "Yes, only Theron seems to be in focus. But for the record, there is hardly anything to distract him in that frozen wasteland he searches. The rest of the Sentinels are merely reacquainting themselves with their humanity. I have no doubt that they will focus on their appointed task when they are through."

Apollo crossed his arms. "You all speak of such things, yet I see no evidence of this slacking you accuse my Sentinel of."

Demeter roller her eyes. "Please, Apollo; we have all seen what Helios has focused on since his arrival on the earth. He is only on the lookout for battle at the moment. Not the Catalyst. Besides, it is not as though we are accusing him or you; Xandra is distracted by the nature she so loves, and Chrysaor has been plagued by his desires for companionship. As I said, they are only human."

Apollo waved her off. "Bah. Do not refer to Chrysaor as a Sentinel. He is a frail, weak excuse for a human being. Never have the Sentinels been cursed with one so shameful..."

Eros was at the end of her patience. Chrysaor was like her own son; and these insults to his character angered her. "Never? Not even when Siris betrayed us all and utilized his power for his own means? And need I remind you, that Siris was YOUR Sentinel Apollo."

Apollo's anger flared and he rose to his feet. "Silence! We have all agreed to never speak of Siris again!"

Demeter made an obscure gesture in Apollo's direction. "Than perhaps you should not accost Eros' Sentinel so. We all have the right to select whomever we wish to be our servant; her decision to pick Chrysaor is none of your concern."

There was silence among The Four. They very rarely had disputes amongst themselves. Apollo's golden eyes shifted between his three companions, but although anger and indignation could be seen there, he said nothing. After a few moments, he took his seat on the throne.

Artemis nodded once more, seemingly content that the situation had been resolved. But Eros saw things for what they were. The unity of The Four had just taken a major blow, and with it, the strength of their Sentinels.

* * *

"So, you mean to tell me that the world is ending? That their is an apocalypse just on the horizon?"

Cyril, now unarmored, sat in a lounge chair across from a girl named Amy Sorel, who was reclining in a similar manner. Although the Sentinel had deposited his armor, in an effort to instill some amount of trust in the girl, he still held her rapier in his own grasp. He was not foolish enough to return the weapon to her.

"I'm guessing that you don't believe me?"

Amy gnawed on the edge of some obscure pastry as she answered. "Can you blame me? After all, the things you are telling me would be widely accepted as the ravings of a madman."

Cyril nodded. "True. But then again, not all raving madmen can make a full suit of armor materialize and also shoot lightning from their fingertips."

The young Rouen girl eyed Cyril with indifference. "There are a lot of mortals in this world with abnormal abilities. Your powers are not evidence to your truth."

Cyril shrugged. "Well, you don't have to believe me. Merely allow me to investigate the source of darkness in your home. Then I will be on my way, and you can go back to eating sweets and fantasizing about impossible romance."

Amy shot him a glare of indignation. "Don't patronize me. My hobbies are irrelevant. You will not roam about my father's home unchecked. Especially with the foolish reasons you are attempting to deceive me with."

"Father? And where is he?"

"...absent."

The hesitation in her answer piqued Cyril's interest. "Absent? Well, he must be a very wealthy man to own such a formidable castle. Surely he possesses servants. Where are they?"

"Ah...also...absent."

Now the Sentinel was greatly intrigued. "You're here alone? A girl at your age has this whole castle to herself?"

This question seemed to offend Amy. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself. Father trusts me to...behave... in his absence."

"And you are content with that?"

Those words threw off the young girl. It seemed that they were causing her to examine herself. "I...yes. I am."

Cyril could hear the weak conviction in Amy's voice as she answered. "You don't hope for more?"

"Hope only leads to disappointment."

What a cynical young girl. "It can also lead to fulfillment. True, it may lead to disappointment, or failure, but if you never act at all, then you have failed already. Your life will be nothing but a disappointment. At least if you try, there is a chance of success."

Amy spent several moments contemplating this, but when she finally answered, Cyril could not detect any telltale emotions. "You seem wise...beyond your years."

"You seem mature beyond yours. That is why I think you understand my words. At this very moment, life is passing you by. I know you are unfulfilled; those romanticized novels of foolery you read are sign enough of that."

Amy gave the Sentinel another look of annoyance, but she let him continue. "And you will be doomed to remain that way, unless you make it happen for yourself. Your dreams are not in this castle. They are out in the world."

At this, Amy spoke. "According to you, the world is going to end. So what's the point of attempting to fulfill my desires?"

"I did say that. But I told you that I will stop that End."

"You will, or you'll try?"

Cyril had no hesitation or doubt in his answer. "I will."

Silence ensued between the two strangers. Cyril wondered if Amy was pondering his words. If she was, then he was more than content to allow her a few minutes of silence. But the quiet didn't last as long as he had thought it would. Within nearly a minute, the astute young girl was questioning the Sentinel of Lightning once more.

"Why do you care so much about the life of a stranger? You hardly know me, yet you seem awfully concerned about my future."

Cyril smiled. "Yeah, I guess that might seem a little creepy. But the reason is much less sinister than you seem to think. Do you mind if I tell you a short little story? It'll enlighten your understanding of my concern."

"I suppose I'm not going anywhere as it is."

It seemed that the young French lass had some amount of humor after all, despite how dry it might be. "Indeed. Well, you see, when I was your age, I was a lot like you. I lived a life that didn't satisfy me. I wanted more. But I didn't want to do anything in order to achieve that fulfillment. I thought that the things I wanted would come to me of their own accord. I now realize that I was delusional; I was the center of my own universe at that time. I thought the world would conform to my wishes just because I wanted it to. And I went on for years believing that. Thinking that everything would be great, and that I had all the time in the world to what I wished."

"I'm assuming we are about to come to a tragic turning point?"

Cyril suffered Amy's interruption without complaint. "Quite. Eventually, I realized that life had other ideas about the workings of the world. That I wasn't the center of some mechanical universe that existed only to please me. Unfortunately, it took a brutal massacre in order for me to realize that. But when I had finally discovered the true nature of the fulfillment I wanted; my very life was robbed from me. I am little more than a servant now. I can't live up to the aspirations that were once mine. And it has plagued me for years. I've experienced a great deal of inner suffering, knowing that I had wasted my life until the end. And despite the fact that I don't know you, I don't want you to experience that. I wouldn't want anyone to reach the end of their life without accomplishing what they wished for most."

Cyril's conversational partner soaked in his words, but she said nothing. This time, the silence ensued for many minutes. Even after nearly a dozen, the girl was quiet. Coming to the conclusion that Amy was immersed in her own thoughts, Cyril rose from the chair, intent on making use of the girl's lack of attention to explore the castle, despite her protests. He would come back to her afterwards, to see what had been gleaned from his words. For now, the End drew ever closer, and valuable time was being wasted. The Sentinel would delay his investigation no longer.

Rising from his chair, he watched to see if the girl opposite of him would object. However, it was obvious that Amy was completely oblivious to Cyril's movements. She must been in very deep thought. More than happy to take advantage of this opportunity, Cyril began his investigation of the castle; starting with the kitchen. Just because he didn't HAVE to eat didn't mean he couldn't still enjoy good food.

* * *

"Make it quick. Snatch the girl and let's go."

Tira peeked over the edge of an Athenian rooftop. The architecture of the buildings made it easy to remain undetected, even at this time of day.

"In broad daylight? Not to mention that both Alexandra sisters are down there. I can only fight one at a time."

Spawn refrained from peering over the edge, since his dark outfit was in stark contrast to the white buildings and blue skies. "All you have to do is make it back to me with the girl. Whether or not you get spotted is irrelevant. Besides, neither of the damn brats is older than three! How much trouble could it be to grab one? Or both even?"

Tira scowled at the hell-spawned creature. **"I don't see you offering to do it. One of those bitches shoots lightning, and the other does more damage with her ass than with her sword!"**

"Fine. Since you seem to be useless without help, I'll take care of those two. You just get the kids while they're distracted. No wonder Soul Edge doesn't trust you."

Spawn leaped off of the building to the ground below, leaving Tira to fume in silent rage. **That bastard... I'll rip his head off before this is over!**

* * *

Raphael leaned against a tree alongside the road he traveled with his servants, and clutched his chest in agony. Jacqueline took notice immediately.

"Master Raphael! What's wrong?!"

The malfested nobleman responded with vigor contradictory to his supposed pain. "Something terribly bad is happening! I can tell!"

Jacqueline cocked an eyebrow at her lord. "Something bad? I-I don't understand..."

Raphael fell to his knees. "Something must be happening to my beloved Amy! I can sense a terrible premonition that something bad is happening to her! We must turn around immediately!"

Marienbard tried to calm him. "M-master, this is the third outburst of evil premonition you've had concerning your daughter. Perhaps you are just homesick? Or experiencing fatherly worry?"

"No, I am absolutely certain that something awful is about to happen! Some sort of change for the worse! Perhaps that change is... independence?! NOOOO!"

Both women shied away from the man. "I believe Master Raphael is worried about leaving his daughter alone. Or maybe more afraid that she'll develop a mind of her own while he's away..."

"Isn't that called puberty?"

"NOOOO!"

* * *

Cassandra watched over her young niece and nephew as they ran circles around each other in their play. Toddlers had such an abundance of energy during the day. Too much, in Cassandra's opinion. She sighed as she watched the two kids yell and scream at the top of their lungs as they played.

_Does Sophitia have to deal with this EVERY day? This is why I'm never going to get married..._

The Athenian woman caught the eyes of her niece, as Pyhrra smiled happily at her. Cassandra waved to the little girl, and as she did, she noticed a drastic change in her facial expression.

"Pyrrha, what's wrong?"

The young girl's eyes widened and little Patroklos pointed a chubby finger at his aunt. "Aunt Cassie! Behind you!"

Cassandra instinctively ducked down, attempting to avoid whatever was behind her. She tucked and rolled away from a potential enemy, and after rising to her feet, laid eyes on a strange humanoid creature with glowing green eyes and an axe that seemed to drip with despair.

"Every time... you people are really starting to piss me off."

Cassandra didn't have her shield with her, but her sword was at her hip at all times, and she pointed the blade at the creature threateningly. "What are you, and what do you want?"

The black-clad man said nothing. Instead, he floated up into the air, and green energy began to flow around his arms. Cassandra looked on this with interest.

"That's uh...not normal."

Her observation was answered with a green fireball. But the projectile was going to fly way over her head. The angle of the ball of energy would lead it to... her family. Without concern for her own safety, Cassandra leaped in front of the attack and attempted to deflect it with her sword. She semi-succeeded: she managed to deflect the attack, but it still landed on the ground beside her. The resulting explosion shattered the ground and emitted a loud roar, causing Pyrrha and Patroklos to scream in terror. Cassandra fell to the ground with a thud. Keeping her eyes on the enemy before her, she motioned to her niece and nephew.

"Pyrrha, take your little brother and go find your mom!"

The little girl stammered out a small reply. "B-b-b-but, Aunt C-Cassie..."

Cassandra took a moment to give a reassuring look to the girl. "It's alright Pyrrha. I'll be fine. But mommy is going to be worried about you. Be a big girl and go find her."

Pyrrha nodded, despite the doubt still written on her childish face. She grabbed Patroklos' hand and began to lead him away from the scene. "C'mon Patty! We have to go find Mommy!"

Cassandra couldn't watch them go, as she was keeping her eyes on her enemy, lest he attempt to pursue the two young children. Once she was comfortable with the distance between Pyrrha and her brother and this demon, Cassandra raised her sword once more, preparing to charge her adversary.

"You creep... I'll teach you a lesson about messing with my family!"

* * *

Pyhrra led Patroklos by the hand, frantically searching for her mother. Sophitia was likely at the bakery, but the young girl still had trouble remembering her way around the area. They were currently in an alley between two streets, and Pyrrha wasn't sure which way to go. She whipped her head back and forth, wondering which way would lead to her mother.

The little girl spent several minutes being wracked by indecision. She wanted to protect her little brother by leading him to the safety of their parents, but she wasn't sure which way to go...

"Aw, are the little birdies lost? Can't find your nest?"

The two little children looked up at the source of the voice, which belonged to a strangely dressed girl perched on the edge of a rooftop, with a big hula-hoop thing around her shoulders. The unknown person hopped down from her resting place and landed in front of the two Athenian kids. Patroklos stumbled backwards in fear, but Pyrrha felt strangely... attracted to the girl. She had some sort of feeling of similarity with her. The weird feelings were beyond the young child; all she knew was that she wasn't scared of this woman.

The pig-tailed girl crouched down to be closer to Pyrrha's height. "You feel strange... you have an aura similar to...Soul Edge?"

Pyrrha cocked her head to the side. "What's that? What's an...awr...auwra?"

"Hmm... never mind. You're a very cute little girl, you know?"

Pyrrha smiled. She liked hearing that. "Thank you! You're very pretty too, miss!"

"Really? I'm glad you think so. Why don't you tell me your name? I'm sure it's very nice."

Pyrrha bobbed up and down on the balls of her feet. "My name's Pyrrha! What's yours?"

The girl in front of Pyrrha smiled. "Oh, that's interesting. My name is Tira. It rhymes; isn't that neat?"

Little Patroklos piped up from behind. "Big sis, we need to go find mommy!"

Tira snapped at the child before Pyrrha could respond. **"Shut up! No one was talking to you!"**

Patroklos scrambled away in fear. Pyrrha felt as though she should defend her little brother from the angry words, but for some reason, she felt like he deserved to be yelled at. He shouldn't have bothered her when she was talking with this weird girl, whom she felt so familiar with.

Tira, having quieted the other Alexandra sibling, returned her attention to Pyrrha. She had a sweet smile across her face, as though her outburst just a moment ago had never really happened. The dark-haired girl reached her hand out to stroke Pyrrha's face. A strange sensation flowed through the little girl as she did so. Anger and angst rushed throughout Pyrrha's small frame at Tira's touch. But was it coming from the girl, or from herself?

"What are you running from little Pyrrha? Something scary?"

Pyrrha struggled to keep a level voice as she answered. "A-a big scary guy... he had some weird green stuff... and he was t-trying to hurt A-aunt Cassie..."

"Was he trying to hurt you?"

The little blonde nodded.

"Aw, that's not very nice, is it? Do you want me to protect you?"

A little bit of conflict arose within Pyrrha's little mind. "B-but... Mommy is gonna... protect us..."

Tira made a pouting face. "But I'm better than mommy, right?"

"B-better?"

Tira nodded. "Uh-huh. Mommy says she loves you, but she's a liar. She doesn't really love you. She likes little Patty more than you."

These words fell on sensitive ears. With Pyrrha's cursed blood reacting to Tira's malfested aura, the little Athenian girl couldn't refute Tira's blatant lies. She just accepted them as truth. That felt like the right thing to do.

"S-s-she doesn't...? Mommy doesn't love...me?"

Little tears began to slip from the girl's eyes, but Tira pulled her close and wiped them away. "Don't cry, Pyrrha. I think you're a good little girl. I love you. Not like that mean lady. I would never pick Patty over you. I think you're the best. You can be my little... angel."

Such immense comfort flowed from these words, but they felt... twisted. Wrong. They felt like a lie. But little Pyrrha believed them anyway. She thought of saying no, but all she wanted was to say yes. The weird feeling in her gut told her to say yes. And so she willingly slipped into this stranger's arms, convinced that she loved her more than her own mother.

Tira hefted the little child in her arms as she stood. She cast a brief glance of curiosity at Patroklos, but the little boy did not possess the same evil that little Pyrrha was cursed with. He was worthless. Turning her back on the little blond, she began to make her way towards the rendezvous point for her and Spawn, breathing lies into Pyrrha's ears all the while.

* * *

"W-what the hell?!"

Cassandra struggled to withdraw her blade, which was buried to the hilt in Spawn's torso. The demonic creature hadn't even flinched when Cassandra rammed it in, and he showed no signs of pain as she tried to pull it out.

"What are you?!"

Spawn gripped his opponent by the throat. His strength was immense, but he wasn't attempting to kill her just yet. "I'm an abomination. A cursed servant of some twisted demon. And you're just a stepping stone on my path to destroying him. No hard feelings."

Spawn tightened his grip around Cassandra's neck, instantly robbing her of her ability to breathe. He lifted the Athenian high off of the ground, laughing diabolically as he watched her squirm. Cassandra tried to escape his grasp by kicking Spawn in the gut, but if her sword, buried in his chest, had done nothing, surely her kicking was just futile resistance.

In a matter of moments, Cassandra was beginning to lose consciousness. _I-I can't die here! What if he goes after the kids? Or Sophitia? But... I can't... escape!_

Cassandra's efforts of resistance grew gradually weaker as she was strangled by this creature. Was this the end? Was she going to be killed here, without being able to support her sister in her quest against Soul Edge? How would she ever live a contented afterlife having left such a burden behind?

"Release my sister, you fiend!"

Spawn turned to face a new threat, but his face was met with the metal rim of a shield. Spawn flew backwards, releasing Cassandra as he did so. Landing a few feet away, he returned to his feet, completely unharmed, but very irritated.

"Bitch...you'll pay for that."

Sophitia stood in-between her sister and the demon that had harmed her. Her stark white clothing was quite... revealing. Still, she presented the fearsome image of a warrior.

"I will not allow demons to plague my home! Leave at once, or suffer the consequences!"

Spawn was anything but intimidated. He slowly pulled Cassandra's blade out of his torso, purposefully making a show of twisting it as he did so. "Your little toy isn't going to hurt me. No amount of suffering can compare to what I've already been through."

Sophitia readied herself for battle. "We shall see. Come, if you are determined to do this."

Spawn made no move. He merely gave a short laugh. "You're brave. I like that. But I'm done here. I only have one objective in this world... anything else is just a bother. I don't think you'd want to fight me anyway. Your tits would bounce all over the place in that outfit."

Sophitia couldn't think of a way to respond to that embarrassing comment. "W-wh- I mean, I don't-!"

While fumbling for a response, the creature before her disappeared in a phenomenal manner that the Athenian woman didn't know how to describe. Left alone with her sister, she temporarily forgot about the adversary. She been to her knees, glad to see that Cassandra was still conscious, and didn't seem seriously harmed.

"Cassandra, are you alright? What was that creature?"

Her sister had trouble getting the words out of her damaged throat. "I'm fine... don't know..."

Sophitia looked around for her two children, who were supposed to be with Cassandra. "Where are Pyrrha and Patroklos?"

"...Told 'em... to run and find you. The monster didn't... get them."

Sophitia's relief was, unfortunately, premature.

"Mommy! Mommy!"

The baker's daughter turned to receive her children in her arms... but only Patroklos came running to her. The little blond boy crashed into her arms. Although Sophitia was relieved to see him, she was greatly concerned about Pyrrha's whereabouts.

"Patroklos, where is your sister? Why isn't she with you?"

The little one looked up into his mother's eyes, worry written all over his childish features. "She's gone, Mommy! She went away!"

"G-gone?! What do you mean?"

"Some lady took her away! She was weird. But Pyrrha didn't think she was weird! She went away with the weird lady!"

Every word that her little boy spoke brought more worry and distress to Sophitia's mind. "W-what woman? What did she look like? Maybe she was just trying to keep her safe..."

Patroklos shook his head back and forth furiously. "No! She had black hair, and a weird... uh... weird... circle thingy! Yeah! The weird lady had a big circle that was almost as big as her! It was really big! And uh... she had claws! Metal claws! It was really scary!"

Cassandra eyed her sister worriedly, her raspy voice uttering the words Sophitia didn't want to hear. "That sounds like... her..."

Sophitia buried her head in Patroklos' tuft of blond hair and began to cry. She couldn't help but question why something so terrible had befallen her family yet again. "Oh... Hephaestus... why is this happening to us? To me..."

* * *

After nearly an two hours of investigating the nooks and crannies of Wallachia castle, (and he was nowhere near done, by no means) Cyril had made little progress. He was making a wide circuit around the castle back towards the study where he had been talking with Amy Sorel. No doubt she had noticed his absence at some point, and was not pleased with his disrespect of her wishes. Not that she could really manage to hurt him...

Speaking of hurt, the Sentinel of Lightning was feeling... damaged. Not physically, but... almost as if his soul was being wounded. But he didn't know what was causing it. In an effort to see if it was merely a feeling or an actual serious matter, he had attempted to recall his armor into the physical realm. The process had taken considerably longer than usual. Even more worrisome was the fact that it also caused more strain than it usually did.

Cyril couldn't really think of any reason why this was happening. The most logical explanation he could come up with was that the dark energy that infested this castle was weakening him. Little did he know that the true cause was much more serious...

But since he was unaware of this true cause, Cyril focused on the task at hand. The evil energy he had investigated so far hadn't really told him anything. His only discovery pertaining to the energy was that it had a distinct aura about it. That at least meant that he would be able to recognize it elsewhere in the world.

Engrossed in his thoughts, Cyril finished his circuit and re-entered the study he had first landed in. Both chairs in the room were empty, and Amy was nowhere to be found. Her rapier was also missing... Cyril frowned. This was the second time he had forgotten to keep a weapon out of a dangerous girl's hands. First Tira, and now this. His level of awareness was slowly dropping, it seemed.

Convinced that the study was indeed empty, Cyril left the room. He gradually made his way towards the castle entrance, wondering where Amy had disappeared to all the while. When he reached the front gates, his thoughts gave him a moment of pause. He wondered if his words had had any real effect on the young French girl. Had she actually considered his wisdom, or had it fallen on deaf ears? He would probably never find out.

The Sentinel's thoughts were interrupted by a tapping on the back of his armor. The little runt had sneaked up on him again...

Cyril turned to face the young redhead he was expecting, while simultaneously pushing the tip of her rapier away from him. Before Cyril could say anything to her, Amy thrust out a travel bag filled to the brim towards the Sentinel. Cyril was momentarily confused. Was this supposed to be a parting gift?

"Ah... I appreciate the thought Amy, but I don't actually need this..."

Her arm didn't waver. "It's not for you to use. It's for you to carry."

"What? Why?"

The look in Amy's crimson eyes said that the answer should be obvious. "Well I'm not carrying it."

"Well you're not going anywhere. At least not with me."

"Is that so?"

"It is."

There was a moment of silence between the two; locked in stalemate. Amy made the first move in the mental game of chess.

"You said that my dreams were out in the world, not in this castle."

Cyril countered with, "Yet I never said I would lead you to them."

"A young girl like me could never travel alone. The people wouldn't allow a female of my age to travel without being accompanied by a man."

Cyril cringed. That was a good move. "I'm sure you are cunning enough to overcome the sexism of the world. Use your head."

More silence between the two. After a few moments, Amy made the final move. She managed to put on the most hurt and sorrowful expression Cyril had ever seen. "You inspired me to try and accomplish things for myself... and now you''re crushing my hopes all over again..."

Checkmate.

Cyril twitched with irritation. Damn his conscience! He snatched the travel bag out of Amy's hands and slung it over his shoulders with a grumble. He could see a faint, manipulative grin tug at the corner of his new companion's lips. "Fine, you can come with me! But don't think I'm going to pamper you like your father! Diabolical..."

With that, Cyril turned away from Amy and marched towards the gate of Wallachia castle, confident that the young girl was right behind him. Sometimes his good intentions caused him more harm than good.

* * *

**Whew, long chapter. Anyway, I'm just going to talk about a few tidbits down here, so you don't have to read it if you don't want to.**

**Anybody notice how I try to throw in character lines from the games in at appropriate moments? A "I see what you did there" moment.**

**I think Patroklos and Pyrrha, who are only two and three during SC4, may have been a little advanced for such young children. But I needed them for this chapter, so maybe they were just really smart kids?**

**I'm also aware that Tira supposedly kidnapped Pyrrha at the end of SC3, but for the sake of the story and the sequel, I delayed this event until now.**

**Last thing; if any of you are wondering why Pyrrha had all those weird emotions... Sophitia, in Soul Edge, the very first Soul game, got a shard of Soul Edge stuck near her heart, and it couldn't be removed. According to the wiki, Pyrrha was born with blood cursed by the evil sword because of this. Tira's malfested, so I thought the two auras of evil would react with each other in a manner like they did.**

**ANYWAY, thanks for reading, and, as usual, I greatly appreciate all feedback, whether it be positive or constructive criticism, as well as simple encouragement. This story is picking up readers fast, and I love it! Next chapter in a few weeks though, since I have to catch up on my other stories... Until the next installment!**


	12. Soul's Motivation

**Hello, hello, faithful readers. I finally finished my exams last week, but even after that, I couldn't write! For some reason I have yet to discover, my computer won't allow me to login to Fanfiction (I'm currently writing this from another computer that I just recently gained access to). Whenever I click on login, the page refreshes and I go nowhere. If any of you have an idea of how to fix that problem, I'd appreciate it, because nothing I've tried so far has worked.**

**Anyway, I'm glad to finally be able to write once more. Despite the fact that it has only been a few weeks, it feels as though I haven't updated in months! **

**Second-to-last thing; I know that last chapter, I referred to our young French lass as Amy Sorel. I also know that there is a pretty large group of SC fans that believe that Amy should not have that last name because the game itself never gives it to her. And finally, I know that that little dispute is just going to have to be accepted by the audience. I mean, Raphael adopted her, so she gets his last name. Nice and simple.**

**Last thing; Ezio is in his Revelation setting here, (yes, I know he wasn't that old in his cameo SC5 appearance) because I can't help but think of him like that since it's the last AC game I've played.**

* * *

_Surely this cannot be natural..._

It was easy for Taki to think such things as she watched the abnormal sight below her. The kunoichi, crouched in a branch, looked down into the ravine that was subject to her scrutiny. In the darkness of night, what she saw seemed twisted and nightmarish. Although perhaps it was as such even in the light.

At the bottom of the ravine, the ground was literally writhing. The dirt churned and heaved every which way, tossing the foliage that dotted the area in a perverted imitation of a chef tossing a salad. At first, Taki had thought this unbelievable occurrence was the work of a demon; but she had quickly discovered that whatever had initiated this localized abnormality was not of demonic origin.

Because of that, the voluptuous ninja was stumped. Her skill, in terms of identifying invisible forces, did not extend past demons. So she was at a loss for what might be causing this phenomena before her. The only conclusion she had come to thus far was that despite that this anomaly was not demonic, it was definitely not natural.

Not being able to solve this problem frustrated Taki to no end. As an independent woman who was used to being able to take care of things single-handedly... not being able to do so was irritating. Even worse than that, this damned situation only added onto her list of worries. Between defeating Mitsurugi, stopping Siegfried, and her usual demon hunting work, Taki really didn't need anything else on her plate right now. Still, this phenomena couldn't just be ignored... it was a seriously worrisome aberration from nature's natural course.

But what could she do about it? Taki couldn't manipulate the earth's behavior; all she could do was observe. Settling in for the night, she proceeded to do just that; curious as to whether this abnormality would pass, or if it would evolve into a greater catastrophe.

* * *

"The heaviness of this bag is relative to my strength, so I'm not really burdened by it... by if I possessed normal abilities, this thing would would be a pain to carry. What did you put in here anyway?"

Amy, walking alongside her armored companion on the beaten dirt path that led away from Wallachia Castle, eyed him indignantly. "Need you ask? I brought only what is essential for travel. I cannot afford to be frivolous with such a serious matter."

Cyril dug one of his hands into the bag to find out just what these 'essentials' were. The first thing his talon tipped fingers ran into was soft and squishy. Wrapping his hand around it, he withdrew... a cupcake, wrapped in some sort of preservative paper. Since he was devoid of his helmet for the moment, Cyril was free to give Amy the most cynical look he could muster while he waved the sweet dessert at her.

"Only the essentials, huh?"

Amy was unfazed. "You do not believe that food is essential?"

Cyril rolled his eyes. "In terms of meat and bread and stuff, yeah. But this is a cupcake; this is not going to help you make it through the day."

"Psychologically speaking, it does possess that ability."

Cyril deposited the unhealthy snack back in Amy's travel bag. "Do you have a comeback for everything?"

"It is easy to have a retort for foolish comments."

Cyril fumed in silence. A few hours ago, he had admired Amy's advanced intellect (Relative to her age, that is) but now it only served to annoy him. "Why am I carrying this for you again?"

Another cocked eyebrow from the French girl. "Isn't carrying things what brutes do when they aren't banging rocks together?"

Cyril stopped in his tracks. Without a word, he dropped the travel bag to the ground, and then silently continued walking. As expected, Amy's indignant shouts followed him.

"H-hold on! Where are you going!? You can't just leave it there! There are quite a few amenit-erm, necessities under all of those sweets!"

Cyril shrugged and continued walking. "Brute no understand. Brute dumb. Bang rocks together."

Cyril couldn't see it, but Amy was pretending to choke him from a distance. "Fine! I'll carry it myself, you thick-skulled Neanderthal!" A series of mumbled, eloquent insults followed, but Cyril heard none of them. He continued walking, content that he still had the ability to drive any woman insane.

* * *

"Do you think the Templars are after these...swords?"

Yusuf paced to and fro within one of the Assassin's many secret hideouts in Constantinople. He was intently focused on the Templar journal Ezio had brought to him. "I do not know, Ezio. As far as I can tell, these...uh -what do they call them- 'Spirit Swords', have never been connected with the Templars or the Assassins. Of course, I can't claim to know everything in our history, but I have never heard these -or anything like these- mentioned in our order. However, it is clear that the Templars are aware of these weapons. This journal is evidence enough of that."

Ezio stroked his graying beard. "If these objects are as powerful as the Templars seem to believe... it could shift the balance of power here in Constantinople. Just like the Apple of Eden..."

Yusuf closed the journal and tossed it on a nearby wooden table, startling an Assassin initiate who was starting to doze off. "So then we are going to send a few of our brothers after them? Maybe even a Den Leader? I'm sure they can handle it."

"I am not so sure. None of our initiates have experience with artifacts of extreme power."

"But you have?"

Ezio gave one of his reassuring smiles to the Arabic man. "Don't worry Yusuf; I'll be quick about it."

Yusuf watched the aging Italian man leave the Assassin Den. He jokingly shouted after him, "And yet you'll be gone for months anyway, because you'll be swooning the nice European ladies, I bet!"

* * *

Xandra, chosen Sentinel of Demeter, looked out over the vast expanse of forest that covered this beautiful continent. This unexplored new world, largely untouched by the destructive hands of humanity. She brushed her armored fingertips across a sturdy oak, one that must have been hundreds of years old. The semi-mortal woman cast her veiled gaze up to the thick treetops above, musing over the future of this land.

Should she and her comrades be successful in their endeavors, then this world would not cease to exist; the Cycle would be broken and a perfect world would be born. But 'perfect' was a matter of perspective. Whose perfect would the new world be? Would it be Demeter's? A world where only glorious nature existed, and no humans plagued the earth with their vile poison? That was the future Xandra enviosned.

But the world of perfection could just as easily be Eros'. As the most faithful believer in human compassion and love, Eros would certiainly push the humans to thrive. What did that mean? It meant that the humans would do what they had always done; they would destroy forests with their axes, rend the pure skies with their corrupted fumes, annd slaughter the beasts of the wild for their selfish needs.

Personally, Xandra hated humans, despite having once been one herself. Yet even in her mortal life, Xandra had tried as hard as possible to separate herself from her race. She had become a hermit of sorts, on a quest to purge the inherent evil of humanity from her soul. She had found little success; no matter how hard she tried, she was still a degenerate human. She was still a cursed being who plagued the natural beauty of the world. Her very existence damaged nature. Such realizations had crushed her spirit, but Demeter had seen fit to revive it in ways Xandra could never have imagined.

Now she was more than human. She was beyond them. Beyond the cancerous creatures that harmed her world. The only reason she would save the wretched humans was because it was an unfortunate 'side effect' of stopping the Cycle. To save the world, and all of its natural beauty, the Cycle must be broken. And by breaking the Cycle, Xandra would save the humans as well, whether she wished to or not.

Buried deep in the confines of her 'enlightened' mind (Or so she believed it to be), Xandra payed little attention to the physical world around her. Still, it was nearly impossible to not notice the storm of light that was forming off in the distance. Xandra raised her helmeted head to witness the clouds gather at a single point a few miles away. They were glowing slightly with a faint bluish aura, and forming a weak vortex at the center point of their convergence. Intrigued by this phenomenon, Xandra called on the power of Demeter's gift, the Falcon Cloak, and let the wind carry her avian form towards the anomaly.

* * *

Little Pyrhha, with her innocent gaze, stood at the foot of Tira's haphazard bed as she watched the girl, her new mother, toss and turn in a frenzy of discomfort. The little Alexandra girl had come to wake her new mother for some reason her young mind couldn't even remember now, but watching Tira writhe on her rough sheets dissuaded the child.

Pyrhha had been lucky to find Tira's small room in the first place. As a resident of Ostreihnsburg castle, Tira had claimed a tiny chamber in the North tower. Pyrrha had only seen it once, when Tira was thinking of some poor malfested guard to ditch the young girl with (Solnholfen had negated the duty when Pyrrha refused to stay with anyone whose face she couldn't see). In the end, Tira had left Pyrrha in a room two floors down from her own, but had neglected to lock the door behind her. All of that childish cooing and cuddling had exhausted her.

None of this really mattered to Pyrrha. She was too intrigued with the idea of what her mother might be dreaming about.

* * *

"Come now, Engel! Strike me down!"

Surrounded by the highest ranking members of the Birds of Passage, who looked on this ordeal with stony faces, Engel stood across from her mentor, unwilling to lift Eiserne Drossel against her.

"I-I can't..."

"You must! It is your mission, which you must not fail at any cost!"

Engel trembled, unable to believe that this was happening. Here was her mentor of many years, who Engel loved like a mother, ordering the initiate to cut her down. Peeking through locks that would, in decades to come, be green, brown, and white, Engel looked into the faces of the ring of observers. Surely this was some sort of test... they couldn't possibly want her to kill someone of such high status and skill. All she had to do was wait, and they would tell Engel that she had made the right choice.

But Engel's mentor knew that her silence meant her student would not do as she was told. Not without a reason.

"If you can not do it for me... you will do it for yourself!"

The older woman rushed Engel, withdrawing a wicked curved dagger from within her robes. As she came within distance, she brought it down on her student. Engel easily blocked the blow with her ring blade.

_I knew it... another training exercise... that's all this is._

Engel would have liked to believe that. But as each vicious blow from her mentor landed, it became more and more clear that this was no exercise. Her mentor... her mother; was trying to kill her. Engel could see it in her eyes and movements. She had seen it plenty of times when she accompanied her teacher on missions. For a few moments, Engel managed to block out the realization such behavior would bring upon her.

Despite the ferocity and lethal intent of each strike, Engel skillfully blocked or dodged each one. Whenever there was an opening -which there were far too many of for her teacher to be doing anything less than dropping her guard on purpose- Engel refused to retaliate.

"Damn it, Engel! Defend yourself! I will not hold back any longer!"

Engel said nothing. Every second, the weight of reality crushed her a little more. Her mentor was trying to kill her. She would not stop until either she or Engel was dead. This was a kill or be killed situation. And unless Engel killed the one person she loved; she herself would be dead... and according to a promise she had made with this same woman, that was unnacceptable.

This revelation, changing Engel's demeanor in a matter of seconds, numbed her. She just stopped thinking, because it would keep her from surviving. She stopped feeling, because it would stop her edge before she killed her opponent. All that was left was her mentor's mantra: kill them before they kill you. Kill them...before they kill you.

With a mechanical drive, caused by Engel's emotional shutdown, the assassin fledgling began to counter her mentor's deadly assault. The two combatants exchanged flurries of lethal steel, but neither managed to hit the other. If anyone could see their eyes, they would have noticed the cold, dead look they had. Here were two souls, who held great affection for another, locked in a brutal fight to the death. Both had closed their hearts. Both had steeled themselves, with their own respective methods. But only one fighter truly wished to survive; and when only one combatant has the will to live, then the other will surely die.

So it was, as Engel swung her weapon in a violent arc at the exposed midsection of her mentor. With sickening ease, the lethal edge sliced through skin, sinew, and muscle. In a spout of blood that covered the killer, Engel's mentor collpased on the ground.

For a moment; one tiny moment, in the entire stream of time, the world was silent. There was no cry of agony, no cheers or jeers from the audience, or any shout of victory from the winner of the battle. Just absolute silence. That one moment was all it took for Engel to regain her senses. Rational thought, and with it, realization, crashed into her mind. Her eyes fixed on the crumpled form before her, Engel fell to her knees, quiet, and shaking.

She reached out her hand, covered in gore, to touch the face of her fallen teacher. With what ounce of life she still had in her, said woman brushed her own fingers across Engel's cheek.

"I-I...love you... Engel..."

With those last words, the victim of fate slipped into the void. And once more, only a moment separated her death and the agonizing scream of sorrow that followed. Although the assassins who watched would say there was a clear victor; both combatants had truly died that day.

* * *

Tira awoke with a start, drenched in sweat... and in tears. Within seconds, the deranged malfested realized it was a nightmare; a shadow of her past that should have remained buried. The memory fresh in her mind, she sobbed. Both sides of her cried, as they were forced to recall the most painful memory they had. If only Soul Edge had wiped their mind as well.

After a good two minutes of this, Tira noticed that something was not right with the status of her room. But it took her a few minutes to realize what it was. There was something in here that shouldn't have been, and it had its chubby little arms wrapped around Tira's waist.

"Mommy?"

...

"What do you think you're doing?"

The answer was very forthcoming. "You were sad. Hugs make people feel not sad, and I don't like seeing mommy sad. So, I gave mommy a hug, to make her happy!"

**What a stupid little twerp. Thinking that... this would do...anything...**

A lot of conflicting emotions arose within Tira's divided mind. On one hand, she didn't appreciate this physical contact with a sniveling child. But on the other, it was slightly comforting. Although that may have been the pervading feeling of her jolly side.

_Just this once? _

**...fine. But never again! Not with Ciri, not with this stupid kid, no one! ****Not that this is doing anything useful-**

_Shut up and let the kid give us a hug. No one ever hugs us these days anyway!_

* * *

**So, this is a short chapter because I need to catch up on two other stories as well. Now that I have writing capabilities again, the next update won't take so long. Until next time.**


	13. Relationship Issues

**It's SO hard to write during the summer! Not because of work, or inconvenience, but something else! When I need to write for my readers, it's like there's this force holding me down! Gravity? No. Laziness.**

**Anyway, I'm trying to update all stories every two weeks, because I have some foolish notion that writing four stories at one time is a good idea. That being said, I don't know why I force myself to write four stories at once… I just can't help myself when I think of a new idea. I just barely kept myself from beginning work on a Street Fighter fic, because I had a great idea for Juri.**

**But anyway, I've whittled down everything I have down to the important stories, so I at least have priorities. I had plenty of time to make this a longer chapter, so go ahead and enjoy it for what it is.**

**Question: now that Link and Ezio are finally showing up, which character would you guys like to next have a large role in the story?**

* * *

"This cannot possibly be the best you can do."

Cyril wanted to tell Amy that this grassy knoll was in fact the best he could do in terms of finding a place to rest. It was away from the road, it wasn't covered in beetles or anything; and although it was exposed to the sky, the weather was very fair and temperate.

"This is probably the best place anywhere nearby. Besides, the grass is actually quite soft."

"The problem with this situation is that you expect me to sleep on grass. The quality of that grass is irrelevant."

Cyril rolled his eyes as he found the spot he would spend most of his sleepless night. "Listen Amy; you came after me remember? I didn't promise a bed of roses, or some pleasure cruise. There will be a fair deal of hardships, but you'll come through."

"That was so inspiring; you should write a song."

"Why thank-"

"But I'm still not sleeping here."

Cyril couldn't help but wonder if all women were this difficult. Talim had been the only girl he had met so far that wasn't a pain in one way or another.

"Well then feel free to stand for the whole night. It won't cause me any harm. Why didn't you bring a bedroll or something?"

"…I forgot. It slipped my mind during my preparations."

"…"

"…"

"Good luck with that, then. On the bright side, at least it shouldn't rain."

* * *

"Princess Hilde, I know that you are vehemently opposed to the idea, but perhaps we should return to Wolfkrone…"

It was hard for Hilde to think of a counter to that suggestion with the cacophonous beating of the rain on the tent canvas that covered herself and her lieutenants.

She was well aware that rations were already half depleted. She was well aware that the morale of her troops was dangerously low. And she was well aware that this accursed storm was not going to end any time soon. But returning to the castle without accomplishing a single thing was a major blow to her pride.

The Wolfkrone column had made no progress whatsoever towards Ostreihnsburg since the field of swampland had stopped them cold. Needless to say, several days stuck in this miserable weather was driving the troops crazy.

"Hmph… Luana is never going to let me live this down… I understand that our situation is less than ideal, Gerhilde. I just hate the idea of being defeated by the weather."

"Princess, nature is one of the most powerful forces on earth. Second only to the Spirit Swords, I would imagine. There is no shame in retreating from the elements."

It was hard to argue with nature's fury, but despite that undeniable truth, it could definitely be said that this downpour should've ended many days ago. Not only had it come out of nowhere, but it had an unusually long span.

Regardless of the storm's origin, it was beating Hilde's troops. She had no choice but to retreat for now, and hope that the storm was affecting Nightmare's fortress as well.

* * *

_"__Ughhh! I hate rain! It's like a way uncool version of snow!"_

_Caw!_

_"__I'm glad you understand, Archy! Tights doesn't listen to what I say. He should be more like Ciri-"_

**"…****forget I said that."**

_Caw!_

Tira dangled her legs over the edge of the chandelier she rested on, several feet above the floor of Ostreihnsburg's unused dining room. She tended to climb things when she was bored.

She had ditched Pyrrha with some random malfested guard she didn't even know the name of, because she couldn't stand kids. Whenever she got the chance to kill them, they never reacted in an interesting way. It was like they never understood that Tira held their frail little lives in the palm of her hand.

But unfortunately, she couldn't wring Pyrrha's little neck; she was needed alive in order to bring Sophitia here and keep here under control. A dead child would only serve to anger the woman.

"MOMMY!"

**"****Oh, what the hell?"**

Tira used her perch to look down on the empty room below, and watch her unwillingly adopted child rush into the room in panic.

"Mommy! Mommy! Where are you?"

Tira would have enjoyed letting the little kid suffer her state of alarm, but the grating sound of her voice outweighed that pleasure. The ex-assassin hopped down from her rest to the stone floor below, and in an excellent show of her agility, landed in a way that didn't even jar her.

The surprise entrance startled Pyrrha though, and the young child fell back onto her rump.

**"****What do you want?! Why are you yelling so much?"**

Pyrrha looked more afraid of her caretaker than usual. "H-h-have you seen my Mommy?"

**"****Yeah, I'm right here; now what do you want?"**

"I want my Mommy!"

**"****I'm right here!"**

"You're not my Mommy! No! You're not!"

Well that was the first time Pyrrha had said that.

_"__What do you mean? Of course I'm your mommy, Pyrrha! I love you, remember?"_

Pyrrha let out a little sniff. She was clearly confused. "B-but…Mommy's hair is yellow… and she's a lot bigger than you miss! Right here!"

Pyrrha patted her chest a few times, indicating just where Tira was smaller than Sophitia.

_"__W-w-what?! Listen you brat, that cow is only bigger than me because she's a whore! Of course a classy virgin like me isn't as large as that sex hog! All she does is sleep around with her husband every night, and I heard somewhere that that kind of thing makes them bigger!"_

Tira's rant of A-cup angst was cut off by the familiar gravely tones of Spawn somewhere behind her.

"Real quality parenting there. Why don't you just teach the kid all the words you know? And where the hell did you hear that bullshit? You shouldn't make stuff up just to cover your small-"

**"****Shut up! I'm the mom here, I can say whatever the *CENSOR* I want!"**

Spawn looked around the empty chamber for the source of the strange beeping noise that had blocked out the F-bomb. _Huh… that was weird…_

Tira marched over to the little blonde bundle on the ground and roughly grasped her arm, eliciting a squeal from the child. Tira forced the girl to look into her eyes.

**"****Listen, you stupid brat! I am your mommy! Not that yellow-haired lady! Me! She doesn't love you! She doesn't want you! Get it?!"**

It took a few moments for Pyrrha to respond, but when she did, she seemed sufficiently calmed. "OK! Mommy, I'm hungry! Can we eat something?"

Both Tira and Spawn were surprised that the little child had accepted those words so readily. _"Uh… sure… SOLFY! I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE, BUT GET IN HERE AND GET THIS BRAT SOME FOOD!"_

Poor Solnholfen, elsewhere in the castle, definitely heard Tira's summons, but he was reluctant to take on the role of babysitter again. Still, he'd come, lest Tira hunted him down later.

"How do you know he heard you?"

_"__Because if he didn't, I'll forcibly enlarge his ear canals so that he does next time. Now, go find Uncle Solfy, Pyrrha! He'll get you some food!"_

Young little Pyrrha nodded enthusiastically, and started to skip off in search of 'Uncle Solfy'. Spawn and Tira watched her leave.

"How the hell did you do that to her? Cryin' one minute and skipping the next… doesn't seem like it'd be that easy to forget your own damn mother."

_"__Who the hell cares? She's out of my hair, and that's all that matters!"_

"And now you don't have to think about how small-"

**"****Shut up."**

* * *

What was this new force? Soul Edge had just detected a new presence that was different from the other four that had arrived a few weeks ago. However, it was very close to one of the four powerful signatures in the far west. In fact, the two powers were almost right on top of each other.

But this new arrival felt different to Nightmare. It was still powerful, but nowhere near the level of the other four. It also had a sort of… otherworldly feel to it. Either way, Nightmare was not pleased to have another potential adversary on his hands.

He was already sure that the creature Tira had encountered was one of these unknown entities. The idea of something as powerful as his servant had described being so near to Soul Edge was worrisome. However, according to Tira, there was no evidence of what the creature's goals were.

Currently, it was just an absurdly powerful figure roaming the world. Interestingly enough, the four signatures had grown slightly weaker a short time ago… for unclear reasons. And a massive storm with an unusual aura had spread over the castle yesterday. Most storms did not have signatures that could be detected by Soul Edge, but this one was clearly no normal bout of inclement weather.

There were many things to worry about. Many hindrances to Soul Edge's wishes. But for now, it was difficult to focus on anything other than the two powers in the west, which were so interestingly close to one another.

* * *

Xandra's falcon form slowly approached the swirling pattern of shimmering clouds that she had noticed a few minutes earlier. From an aerial point of view, the strange cloud formation was even more intriguing. It almost looked like the same type of vortex that signaled the approach of a Sentinel.

However, Xandra, like all Sentinels, was able to detect the energy signatures of her fellow kind. Whatever this anomaly was, it had nothing to do with Valhalla or The Four. Which only served to make the event that much more interesting.

Xandra focused her sharp avian eyes on the ground below the vortex, expecting some alien visitor to fall from the clouds just like her kind did. But expectations hardly ever matched reality. Instead of a pillar of fire, lightning, air, or ice, there was a blinding flash of light that burned Xandra's beady black eyes.

It was only a brief flash, but the blindness lingered in Xandra's vision, and she tumbled out of the air as she inadvertently reverted back to her humanoid form. She was unable to recover before her metal covered frame smashed through the treetops and thick trunks of the forest below, and landed in the fertile dirt with a massive crash and upheaval of loamy soil.

Xandra rose to her feet and brushed the debris off of her forest green tinted Sentinel armor, only slightly irritated that she had suffered some minuscule physical damage. It was far more terrible that she had accidentally split the trunks of three majestic trees, and caused massive damage to the roots of many others with her impact. She would suffer any harm to herself in order to save nature from such pain.

Xandra quickly regained her bearings, and began to move towards the source of the light that had caused this horrendous tragedy. With the wind literally carrying the mistress that could manipulate it forward, Xandra crossed several yards with every bound she took. Only Chrysaor and other Lightning Sentinels could move faster than she; even the winds couldn't move as fast as the sky's bolts of fury.

Either way, Xandra came within view of her target in under a minute, and surprisingly, there _was _someone –or something- on the ground below where the mystic clouds had been, which had already dissipated. She silently hid herself behind a large trunk to observe the anomaly.

It was sort of prone humanoid, wrapped in green clothing and a funny hat. Beside the unknown creature was an intricately designed shield as well as an expertly made blade. Xandra noted all of these details in a split-second, but just as she had decided that she had seen all she could, something strange she hadn't noticed rose out of the bundle of plain green clothing. Something small, blue, and…glowing?

An unusual orb of glowing blue light floated above the prone and most likely unconscious visitor. It darted to and fro over the other, as if worried or anxious. Xandra did not know of any kind of animal with these qualities, so she was not sure of what this creature was.

The unknown entity darted around erratically for a few more minutes, but when it was obvious that the alien on the ground was not stirring, the blue orb began to start making large circles around the area, as if it was trying to find out where it was.

As it came slightly closer, Xandra could see that the tiny being had wings. In fact, the Sentinel of Wind thought she could hear a tiny voice emanating from the thing, carried to her ears by the gentle zephyrs of the skies.

"…oh no, oh no… oh dear…"

Xandra decided that it would be best to investigate these strangers, and slowly stepped out from behind one of her beloved trees, ready to kill if need be.

The hovering blue light stopped its circuit as it noticed Xandra's presence. For a few moments, there was silence, broken only by the chirping of birds and other noises of the forest. Xandra stood completely still, waiting to see if the glowing blue creature would flee or come nearer.

Its interest apparently piqued, the tiny winged light did indeed come towards Xandra, but it kept enough distance between them to stay safe. At that point, more silence ensued.

"…"

"…"

Xandra almost considered speaking to the thing, but she was a patient woman who was willing to wait for something to happen.

"…Hey! Hey listen!"

Although that might not have been what she was expecting.

* * *

"And what makes you think I'm going to help you? You are my enemy, Schtauffen."

Siegfried rested in a very luxurious lounge chair in the Valentine mansion that resides in London's outskirts. Across from him was a voluptuous alchemist that was none too happy to see him. In fact, she even had her snake sword at the ready, in case Siegfried failed to convince her that they could work towards a common goal.

"I am no longer Nightmare. And I am not the reason your blood is tainted with Soul Edge. Regardless of our sins, we both now have the same objective; destroying the Cursed Sword. I do not see why we can't work towards this together."

"Hmph. You think that will atone for your actions as Nightmare? Only death would be a suitable punishment, and even that would be generous. Besides, why should you need my help? Is that sword proving to be too powerful for you?"

Siegfried would not be goaded into rash action by this woman. He wouldn't be caught off guard either. He was ready to use Soul Calibur if necessary.

"The sword has suffered some sort of debilitating effect recently. Its power is not enough to defeat Soul Edge until the problem can be remedied. I thought you, with your deep knowledge of the world, might be able to do so. I can see that I was mistaken."

Siegfried rose to his feet, pretending to have concluded his business. As he had anticipated, the ploy was successful.

"I did not say that I could not do it. I was just asking why I should. What's in it for me, if I help you now?"

"What more could I give than the destruction of the Cursed Sword?"

"True enough… but I am only doing this as a test of my abilities. We are not friends, or even allies. Now if you're ready to get started with this, lug that massive thing this way; I'm not carrying that thing to the laboratory."

* * *

"C'mon, you can't _actually _stand like that all night. You won't be able to walk tomorrow if you do."

Amy cast an irritable look towards the Sentinel that spoke to her. "I'm not sleeping in the dirt."

"This is hardly the time to worry about some petty self-image, Amy. You're really going to regret this in the morning."

"Dignity is beside the point! I refuse to sleep her for no other reason beyond cleanliness! Who knows what type of diabolical creatures live in that filth…"

Cyril wondered why he accepted companions at all. It was really nothing but a burden. However, he was more than willing to suffer a bit if it meant he could be with someone.

"Oh… Amy, you aren't scared of bugs, are you?"

Amy crossed her arms. "Don't be ridiculous. I am not _afraid _of insects. I am merely displeased with their existence."

Cyril looked around him until he located a beetle crawling between the blades of grass he rested on. He cupped the tiny creature in his hand and prepared for lots of shrieking or a flurry of punches.

"Amy, think fast."

Cyril tossed the insect in a gentle arc towards his target, who had yet to acknowledge the threat to her person. But despite her lack of awareness, Amy definitely noticed the bug when it landed on the furry hem of her outfit.

"E-e-eh… EEEEEKKK!"

The young French girl swatted the hated animal off of her and closed the distance between herself and the offender with extreme speed.

"Aw, c'mon Amy, that kind of beetle doesn't bite-!"

Cyril's would-be apology was cut off by a boot to the face, which hurt a lot more than a young girl like Amy should have been able to cause.

"You bastard! You were fully aware of what I meant by that! I hate bugs! Why would you do that to me!?"

Cyril rubbed the side of his face as he shook the stars out of his eyes. "Ow… I was just trying to get you to loosen up. That's the most emotion you've shown yet. Although it was definitely negative for me…"

"Shut up and lay down! Since you thought it was necessary to do that, I'm sleeping on top of you! You can taste the dirt, since you like it so much!"

Cyril did as he was told and pressed his back against the ground. "All right, fine by me."

Amy scowled at the Sentinel. "Not like that, you pedophile. Roll over."

"Oh c'mon, I don't think you sleeping on my back is a good idea…"

"Hurry up! I'm tired! I want to sleep already!"

"Wouldn't it be better to sleep in my lap or something?"

"I refuse to do anything that may be remotely pleasing for you. So give me your back for a bed!"

Cyril decided that further argument would get him nowhere, and he mentally acknowledged how strange it was that Tira had been more open to his ideas than Amy was.

"Alright, alright, but I get the feeling that someone is going to be very mad about this…"

* * *

"Master Raphael? Are you getting those strange vibes again? You look very pale."

Raphael and his three servants had finally made their way into a village on their way towards Germany, but since no inn was good enough for the noble, he had bought the mayor's home as his residence until the next day.

It was still monumentally subpar to his castle of course, but it was still better than any of the peasant's flea-ridden beds. But that was the least of his worries. His fatherly instincts were tingling, and he knew that Amy was in danger somehow! Maybe not physically… but he knew that some aspect of his daughter's character was being broken down. He could feel it!

"Maybe it's just something you ate, Master. It's probably just like phantom pains… but uh… mental."

Raphael swirled his cape dramatically to face Marienbard, the green haired scythe wielding maid.

"You dare suggest that my flawless intuition could possibly be mistaken!? Especially when it comes to my own daughter!?"

"N-n-no! Of course not, Master Raphael! Mistress Sorel must surely be in jeopardy, as you say! S-should we return to the castle?"

Raphael paced in the mayor's old room worriedly. "It would take weeks to return to my darling, unless… Auguste! You have two weeks to return to Wallachia and check up on Amy, then return here! It'll probably require you to sprint at top speed the entire way and back, with no breaks or possible stops!"

The wolf-headed man probably blanched, but nobody could see it. "M-master Raphael… that doesn't seem physically possible…"

"DEFYING ME MEANS COMPLETE ANHHILATION!"

Auguste dashed out the door without a second though. He'd need all the time he could get in order to save himself from his Master's wrath.

* * *

"Hey! Listen! Listen to me!"

Xandra was a very patient woman, especially with animals, but this… thing… had the annoying human quality of speech. In fact, it seemed to speak more than most children did.

"Calm yourself, child of the Mother. I will listen, but you must answer my inquiries first."

The tiny blue thing said nothing, but vibrated intensely. Xandra took this as a go ahead.

"Firstly, what manner of animal are you? I have never seen the likes of your kind in my beloved world."

"I'm a fairy, obviously! Every Hyrulian gets one, how could you not know what I am?!"

The word fairy was nothing new to Demeter's Sentinel, but she had only ever related the creatures to mythology. Hyrulian was a foreign word to her.

"What is this Hyrulian that you speak of? You speak of it as though it was another species in my land, yet I have not heard of it."

"Oh my, oh my, you are very uneducated miss! Hyrulians are natives of Hyrule, of course! It's the most beautiful and amazing and gorgeous realm-!"

Xandra cut off the 'fairy' before it began ranting. "Silence, tiny one. I have not heard of this 'Hyrule'. What direction is it from here? Across the Eastern sea? Or south of this uncharted land?"

"Err… never you mind! But hey, listen! Link might be hurt! You should check on him! C'mon, help me!"

Xandra wondered if this tiny fairy ever stopped to think that strangers would have no idea what it was talking about. But she didn't have time to point that out as the little flier darted back towards the prone body it had arrived with. Although interfering in this situation would most likely be a waste of time, the Catalyst would most likely be related to unusual occurrences… such as green-clad men appearing in a flash of light.

The Sentinel guardian of nature followed the fairy towards its companion, more than ready to kill the unknown humanoid if she had to; or if she wanted to.

Not wanting to dirty herself with a human, Xandra used her metal-tipped boots to nudge the man below her into a position that exposed his features. A head-to-toe analysis of the figure served to show that there was nothing too terribly unique about him.

He had a strong build, slightly above average height, somewhat handsome features… the only thing that really pulled on Xandra's attention was the man's ears, which were elongated and pointed. However, while this was interesting, Xandra was not astonished or even slightly shocked. Unlike most of society in the world today, the existence of elves was no secret to the residents of Valhalla, who were far more aware of the earth's secrets.

"Where did you and your elven comrade come from, fairy? Do his kind reside somewhere within these forests?"

Xandra couldn't see the fairy's facial expression (she didn't even know if the creature possessed a face), but its tone of voice sounded confused.

"Elven? What is that? My comrade is Hyrulian, not whatever this elven thing is!"

"His ears are pointed. That is a characteristic that is only possessed by that species. I will assume that the species is the same, but since his kind is separated from most of the populated world, you have a different name for his species."

The glowing blue fairy's wings increased in its speed. "No, no, no! There are no 'elves' in Hyrule! That's where we are from, and there are only Hyrulians! Well, there are a bunch of other things, but no elves! Nope!"

Xandra wondered if she was just wasting her time with this situation. These two strangers had earned her irritation; because of them, some small amount of nature's beauty had been scarred. That was more than enough reason for her to rip them both to shreds with a twister. Or her clawed gauntlets, since a twister could cause harm to the Mother in this area.

However… locating the Catalyst in this massive expanse of woods would take forever, and Xandra was far more likely to find a clue to her goal by investigating this rare occurrence than by aimlessly wandering the wilderness.

""Your friend; whatever he may be, has severely depleted energy reserves. He will most likely be unconscious for several days, unless we find a place where I may assist in a rapid recovery. We will take this course of action so that I may question this man about his origins. Your opinion on this matter will not change the outcome. Now, fairy; do you have a name with which I may address you?"

* * *

"Somehow I knew this would be happening…"

Taki rested on the edge of an Oriental building as she looked down on the scene below. She knew Mitsurugi was the kind of man who was always picking fights, but could he at least refrain from dueling in the streets? And with Setsuka, no less…

At least the display of swordsmanship between the two made for an interesting match. Taki only needed Setsuka alive, so she would not mind if Mitsurugi was killed here… (in fact, she would definitely appreciate it).For now, the experienced kunocihi was content to watch the clash of blades below, and silently cheer on the western Geisha that she needed to speak to.

The battle was at a standstill for nearly an hour; it was flashy, skillful, and incredibly intense, but neither Mitsurugi or Setsuka even scratched each other; although Taki's expert eyes did catch a small patch of Setsuka's beloved kimono being removed from the rest of the outfit. No doubt she would be very angry about that, when she noticed it later. She _always _noticed damage to her beautiful kimono.

Regardless of damage to aesthetics, neither duelist made much headway. But Taki had plenty of experience fighting against Mitsurugi, and she knew that even Setsuka's hate for the man couldn't keep her going against the samurai's iron willpower. If it came down to a contest of stamina, there was no way Setsuka would win. Even Taki's intense training couldn't last against Mitsurugi's insane drive to defeat all enemies.

The clash of blades continued for another half-hour, but with each passing minute, Mitsurugi's lethal edge came ever closer to Setsuka's flawless skin. If Setsuka was going to make it out of this alive, Taki would have to intervene soon…

The battle below finally took a quick and drastic turn for the worse. With one last swing of Shishi-Oh, Mitsurugi disarmed Setuska and knocked her back. She was completely at his mercy.

Taki reacted to the situation quickly. She positioned herself for a leap that would land her in-between the two opponents, and hopefully give her a chance to spirit Setsuka out of danger. But before the ninja could perform said maneuver, Mitsurugi withdrew his blade and sheathed it. What one could consider a blessing, but also an extreme insult…

"You aren't worth the effort. The blood of an opponent so weak would only stain my blade!"

Setsuka's face filled with anger as well as defeat. "Y-you… how dare you! Not only have you slain my master, but now you insult his very memory by refusing to finish me?!"

Mitsurugi began to turn away. "Hmph. If you feel so insulted, then challenge me again when you have become a worthy opponent! There's no need to worry; I won't kill you until you have become an opponent worth fighting."

Mitsurugi then left the area, Setsuka's baleful gaze followed him until he was out of sight, but her fatigued body didn't have the strength to follow him. Once he disappeared, the blonde woman hung her head in shame.

"Master… how could I have failed you again?"

"You should consider yourself lucky; he doesn't spare too many opponents."

Setsuka turned her head to face the unexpected visitor in purple tights. "Ah… you are the one who has faced him in combat many times before, yes? Kunoichi… Tagi, is it?"

"Taki, Setsuka-San. I did not expect you to know of me."

"Who in Japan has not heard of the exploits of the famed Demon Slayer?"

Taki frowned. "I must be doing a poor job as a ninja if everyone knows about me…"

"No need to worry about that. You are more of a legend than a confirmed person. I know slightly more about you because I have studied that man in hopes of defeating him. I tried so hard, yet all I have done is fail."

"You should think of this as a blessing. If he had killed you, there would be no chance to redeem yourself from defeat. At least like this, you can mold yourself into a more powerful warrior, and return for a second chance."

Setsuka retrieved her blade from the ground and slowly rose to her feet. "That is very wise, Taki-Sama. So… may I ask why you have sought me out?"

"I require the assistance of an experienced and determined warrior in a… 'situation' I have never encountered before. I imagine it will also give you chance to hone your skills to an even further extent."

"What will this partnership require?"

"There will likely be a good bit of travelling. To what distance, I myself do not know. There may also be danger to ourselves, but I do believe you can handle yourself; Setsuka-San?"

Setsuka mulled over the idea for a few minutes. There was no point in retreating to Jyukudai and training in solitude. That was what she had just tried, and Mitsurugi had defeated her. If she went with Taki, who no doubt had noble goals in mind, she would be able to experience new types of training. And perhaps the kunocihi with so much experience fighting Setsuka's nemesis would be able to give her some special pointers?

Having come to those two conclusions, Setsuka had a clear answer. "I would be honored to assist you in what is no doubt an important task, Taki-Sama."

"Excellent. You may also drop the titles. I was never much for societal convention. I also don't think I'm in a position to be called 'Same' anyway. Now, come along, we'll need to begin as soon as possible."

* * *

Despite the lack of need for rest, Cyril was sure that he wouldn't have been able to if he did. He could just barely see the sun rising from the edge of his vision, because his face was mostly buried in the ground.

He was in an incredibly awkward position. He was on his stomach, trying to be flat as a board, and Amy was on his back, trying to keep every part of her person off of the ground. So there was a grown man and young teen girl on top of knoll, lying back-to-back on the ground. Lord knows what anyone who saw such a strange sight would have thought.

"…Amy?"

"…what?"

"…you didn't actually sleep any, did you?"

"…your back isn't very soft."

"…probably because it's mostly bone. Anyway, we need to get moving."

Amy's silence lasted slightly longer this time. "…can we just rest a little longer?"

"No, I really need to move ahead… listen, I'll carry you, so you can actually get a little sleep, alright?"

Amy rolled off of Cyril's back, which was cramped to kingdom come. Cyril did his best to stretch it out as he gathered up Amy's bag.

"You were really loose last night. I didn't know you had that kind of emotion in you."

"I was tired… and I really hate bugs."

Cyril placed the girl on his back the same way he had Tira a few weeks ago. "If you say so. Anyway, our… well, my goal… is a ways off… pretty far East of here. Feel free to sleep for as long as you want."

Amy's eyes were already closed, and she had already nestled into Cyril's neck; something she would never do if she weren't so sleepy. But she wasn't quite asleep yet.

"I do believe… you meant what you said the first time. 'Our' goal."

"Our?"

"I'm travelling with you, aren't I? My only wish right now is to experience the world… I'd might as well tag along with someone. That makes your goal my goal… for now…"

Amy loosed a yawn that was somehow really cute. Cyril didn't even know how a yawn could be cute, but whatever.

"Mmm…try not to jostle me around or anything…"

"Heh, sure… sleep tight back there."

* * *

Theron, ice blue Sentinel of Artemis, trudged along the frozen tundra of the uninhabited frozen wasteland of the far south of the world. He had yet to see anything useful whatsoever. Just snow and ice everywhere.

However, he had found an unusual species of black and white bird things that were most fascinating. They made funny noises and did the exact opposite actions that most birds did. Something about these weird things was quite interesting.

Far more interesting than searching an empty tundra for some unknown object at any rate… he supposed boring places suited his personality though.

* * *

"Mommy! Can I have some milk?"

_"__Yeah, whatever sure- Whoa! Hey, stop that! No! Bad midget human thing! Bad! You don't like my breasts, remember?! GET OFF OF ME!"_

* * *

**I think this is the only chapter I've written besides the COD one that nears 6,000 words. I also feel like I trolled you guys by having Link unable to speak for this whole chapter.**

**Mostly because… doesn't Link speak in some weird language that is most certainly not English? A bunch of Hyahh and Shyah and stuff? If that is the case, maybe Navi can translate for him?**

**Also, has anyone noticed a few tinges of deranged behavior in Xandra? MY world; a definite narcissistic undertone? Beware, Link, she might be somewhat delusional…**


End file.
